UC-NRLF 


B    3    3E1    bE 


LIBRARY 

OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


--''£^ 


NOW  FOR  THE  FIRST  TIME  COLLECTED 


EDITED  AND  ANNOTATED  BY 

J.    C.    THOMSON 

EDITOR  OF 

"the  bibliography  of  CHARLES  DICKENS  " 

"  THE  AVON   BOOKLET  "  ETC. 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
MCMIII 


^^nzPiAi 


Contents 

PAOB 

Foreword v 

TiMBUCTOO.                  I 

The  "How"  and  the  ''Why"     ....  17 

The  Burial  of  Love 20 

To 22 

Song 23 

Song 25 

Hero  to  Leander 27 

The  Mystic 30 

The  Grasshopper 33 

Love,  Pride  and  Forgetpulness     ...  36 

Chorus 37 

Lost  Hope 39 

The  Tears  op  Heaven 40 

Love  and  Sorrow 41 

To  A  Lady  Sleeping 43 

Sonnet .  44 

iii 


Contents 

PAGB 

Sonnet 45 

Sonnet 47 

Sonnet 49 

Love 50 

English  War  Song 53 

National  Song 56 

Dualisms 58 

oi  peovre^ 60 

Song 62 

A  Fragment 65 

Anacreontics 68 

No  More 69 

Sonnet 7° 

Sonnet 72 

Sonnet 74 

Sonnet 76 

The  Hesperides 78 

Rosalind 85 

Song 87 

Sonnet 88 

O  Darling  Room 9^ 

To  Christopher  North 9^ 

The  Lotos-Eaters 93 

iv 


Contents 

PAGB 

A  Dream  of  Fair  Women 96 

The  Palace  of  Art 98 

Cambridge 109 

The  Germ  of  "Maud" iii 

The  Skipping  Rope 114 

The  New  Timon  and  the  Poets     .     .     .  115 

Mablethorpe IlB 

Stanzas 119 

Britons,  Guard  your  Own 120 

Hands  all  Round 124 

Suggested  by  Reading  an  Artic;.e  in  a 

Newspaper 128 

1865-1866 135 

Alcaics 136 

Sapphics ^37 

The  Rosebud 13^ 

A  Gate  and  a  Field  Half  Ploughed     .     .  139 
The  Lover's  Tale.     A  Fragment     .     .     .140 


Foreword 

Tennyson^s  long  life  of  eighty-four  years 
almost  equalled  in  its  duration  the  com- 
bined lives  of  Keats,  Shelley,  and  Byron. 
Unlike  these  impassioned  boys,  who  passed 
their  lives  at  issue  with  their  generation, 
Tennyson  was  bom  into  a  happier  time, 
eagerly  expecting  its  great  poet  and  anxious 
with  welcome.  He  was  protected  all  his 
days  from  criticism  and  annoyance  by  a 
phalanx  of  friendly  admirers,  who  preached 
him  in  every  direction  and  encouraged  him 
with  their  applause.  No  ''wood  notes  wild  " 
came  from  him;  the  gems  in  his  poetry  are 
pretty  or  beautiful  or  now  and  again  per- 
fect— but  all  owing  such  perfection  as  they 
possess  more  to  art  than  to  nature.  In  his 
earlier  days  he  had  determined  to  be  a 
vii 


Foreword 


poet — as  one  might  determine  to  be  a  sol- 
dier or  another  a  priest.  That  he  succeed- 
ed is  but  stating  a  platitude;  but  his  suc- 
cess involved  much  groping  and  stumbling 
in  the  poetic  journey,  of  which  when  fame 
came  to  him  he  was  too  sensitively  conscious. 
*'Why  do  they  treasure  the  rubbish  I 
shot  from  my  full  full-finish 'd  cantos.'^"  he 
once  querulously  asked  his  son,  irritated  by 
the  attempts  of  the  late  Mr.  Heme  Shepherd 
to  reprint  some  of  his  suppressed  youthful 
poems.  This  rather  overstrained  anxiety 
for  his  reputation  led  to  the  suppression  of 
no  less  than  fifty-three  poems  by  Tennyson 
— some  originally  published  in  his  volumes 
of  1830  and  1832  and  others  contributed  to 
various  annuals  and  periodicals  from  time 
to  time.  Of  these  contributions  to  what  is 
commonly  called  ephemeral  literature,  the 
first  was  published  when  Tennyson  was^ 
twenty  -  two  and  the  last  when  he  was 
seventy-six.  In  the  Life  of  his  father  by 
Hallam  Lord  Tennyson,  many  of  these  are 
mentioned,  some  are  reprinted  in  full,  usu- 
viii 


Foreword 


ally  greatly  altered,  and  several  are  entirely 
ignored.  To  the  student  of  Tennyson  the 
Collected  Works  afford  quite  insufficient  ma- 
terial for  the  study  of  his  poetic  develop- 
ment, and  the  poems  as  given  for  the  first 
time  in  the  Lije  are  so  far  untrustworthy  in 
that  we  have  the  best  reasons  for  assuming 
they  that  are  not  now  as  originally  written. 
In  plain  language,  they  are  not  what  they 
profess  to  be,  the  first  uncertain  exercises 
of  a  poet  unacquainted  with  the  greatness 
of  his  gift.  They  have  been  altered  from 
their  first  form  as  originally  written,  and 
from  being  the  hesitating  efforts  of  youth 
become  but  the  experiments  of  complacent 
maturity. 

It  has,  therefore,  seemed  to  me  that  a 
volume  containing  all  these  suppressed 
poems  of  Tennyson,  reprinted  as  originally 
published,  would  possess  a  value  much 
beyond  that  of  a  mere  collection  of  literary 
curiosities.  Tennyson's  place  in  the  literary 
hierarchy  is  as  yet  indefinite:  he  has  yet 
to  stand  his  trial  at  the  bar  of  posterity, 
ix 


Foreword 


and  the  verdict  will  be  given,  not  on  what 
he  hoped  to  have  done,  but  on  what  he  did. 
Here,  then,  in  this  volume,  I  have  collected 
some  threescore  counts  in  his  indictment — 
for  or  against  as  the  reader  shall  decide. 

Where  necessary,  I  have  prefaced  the 
poems  with  an  introductory  note,  stating 
the  original  source  of  publication  and  adding 
any  other  relative  facts  likely  to  interest. 
I  believe  I  have  succeeded  in  tracing  every 
published  poem  of  Tennyson's  not  now 
given  in  the  Collected  Works.  It  is,  how- 
ever, possible — though  unlikely — that  there 
may  be  others  buried  in  the  anonymous 
columns  of  old  newspapers;  if  so,  there  they 
will  remain  in  the  limbo  of  the  utterly 
forgotten. 

J.  C.  Thomson. 

Avon  Glen,  Warwick,  England. 


Timbuctoo 


A  POEM  WHICH  OBTAINED  THE  CHANCELLOR'S 
MEDAL  AT  THE  CAMBRIDGE  COMMENCEMENT, 
MDCCCXXIX,  BY  A.  TENNYSON,  OF  TRINITY  COLLEGE. 

[Printed  in  Cambridge  Chronicle  and  Journal  of  Friday,  July 
lo,  1829,  and  at  the  University  Press  by  James  Smith,  among 
the  Prolusiones  Academicce  Prcsmiis  annuis  dignatcs,  et  in 
Curia  Cantabrigiensi  Recitatcs  Comitiis  Maximis,  mdcccxxix. 
Republished  in  Cambridge  Prize  Poems,  181 3  to  1858,  by 
Messrs.  Macmillan  in  1850,  without  alteration;  and  in  1893 
in  the  appendix  to  a  reprint  of  Poems  by  Two  Brothers.] 

Deep  in  that  lion-haunted  inland  lies 
A  mystic  city,  goal  of  high  Emprize. 

— Chapman.* 


STOOD  upon  the  Moun- 
tain which  o'erlooks 

The  narrow  seas,  whose 
rapid  interval 

Parts  Afric  from  green 
Europe,  when  the  Sun 


Had  fall'n  below  th'  Atlantick,  and  above 


*  Mr.  Swinburne  has  failed  to  find  this  couplet  in  any  of 
Chapman's  original  poems  or  translations,  and  is  of  opinion 
that  it  is  Tennyson's  own. 

I 


Tennyson's   Suppressed    Poems 

The  silent  Heavens  were  blench'd  with  faery 

light, 
Uncertain  whether  faery  light  or  cloud, 
Flowing  Southward,  and  the  chasms  of  deep, 

deep  blue 
Slumber'd  unfathomable,  and  the  stars 
Were  flooded  over  with  clear  glory  and  pale. 
I  gaz'd  upon  the  sheeny  coast  beyond. 
There  where  the  Giant  of  old  Time  infixed 
The  limits  of  his  prowess,  pillars  high 
Long  time  eras'd  from  Earth:  even  as  the 

sea 
When  weary  of  wild  inroad  buildeth  up 
Huge  mounds  whereby  to  stay  his  yeasty 

waves. 
And  much  I  mus'd  on  legends  quaint  and 

old 
Which  whilome  won  the  hearts  of  all  on 

Earth 
Towards    their    brightness,   ev'n    as   flame 

draws  air; 
But  had  their  being  in  the  heart  of  Man 
As  air  is  th'  life  of  flame:  and  thou  wert  then 
A  centered  glory-circled  Memory, 


Tennyson^s   Suppressed    Poems 

Divinest  Atalantis,  whom  the  waves 
Have  buried  deep,  and  thou  of  later  name 
Imperial  Eldorado  roof'd  with  gold: 
Shadows   to   which,   despite   all   shocks   of 

Change, 
All  onset  of  capricious  Accident, 
Men  clung  with  yearning  Hope  which  would 

not  die 
As   when   in   some    great   City  where  the 

walls 
Shake,  and  the  streets  with  ghastly  faces 

throng'd 
Do  utter  forth  a  subterranean  voice. 
Among  the  inner  columns  far  retir'd 
At  midnight,  in  the  lone  Acropolis. 
Before  the  awful  Genius  of  the  place 
Kneels  the  pale  Priestess  in  deep  faith,  the 

while 
Above  her  head  the  weak  lamp  dips  and 

winks 
Unto  the  fearful  summoning  without: 
Nathless  she  ever  clasps  the  marble  knees. 
Bathes  the  cold  hand  with  tears,  and  gazeth 

on 

3 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Those  eyes  which  wear  no  light  but  that 

wherewith 
Her  phantasy  informs  them. 

Where  are  ye 
Thrones  of  the  Western  wave,  fair  Islands 

green? 
Where  are  your  moonlight  halls,  your  cedarn 

glooms, 
The  blossoming  abysses  of  your  hills? 
Your  flowering  Capes  and  your  gold-sanded 

bays 
Blown  round  with  happy  airs  of  odorous 

winds  ? 
Where  are  the  infinite  ways  which,  Seraph- 
trod, 
Wound  thro'  your  great  Elysian  solitudes, 
Whose  lowest  depths  were,  as  with  visible 

love, 
Fiird  with  Divine  effulgence,  circumfus'd. 
Flowing   between    the    clear    and    polish'd 

stems. 
And  ever  circling  round  their  emerald  cones 
In  coronals  and  glories,  such  as  gird 

4 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

The  unfading  foreheads   of  the   Saints  in 

Heaven  ? 
For  nothing  visible,  they  say,  had  birth 
In   that   blest    ground  but   it   was   play'd 

about 
With  its  peculiar  glory.     Then  I  rais'd 
My  voice  and  cried,  "Wide  Afric,  doth  thy 

Sun 
Lighten,  thy  hills  enfold  a  City  as  fair 
As   those   which   starr'd   the  night   o'   the 

Elder  World? 
Or  is  the  rumor  of  thy  Timbuctoo 
A  dream  as  frail  as  those  of  ancient  Time?" 

A    curve    of    whitening,    flashing,    ebbing 

light! 
A    rustling    of    white    wings!     The    bright 

descent 
Of  a  young  Seraph !  and  he  stood  beside  me 
There  on  the  ridge,  and  look'd  into  my  face 
With  his  unutterable,  shining  orbs, 
So  that  with  hasty  motion  I  did  veil 
My  vision  with  both  hands,  and  saw  before 

me 

S 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Such   color'd  spots  as  dance  athwart  the 

eyes 
Of  those  that  gaze  upon  the  noonday  Sun. 
Girt  with  a  Zone  of  flashing  'gold  beneath 
His  breast,  and  compass'd  round  about  his 

brow 
With  triple  arch  of  ever-changing  bows, 
And  circled  with  the  glory  of  living'  light 
And  alternation  of  all  hues,  he  stood. 

**0  child  of  man,  why  muse  you  here  alone 
Upon  the  Mountain,  on  the  dreams  of  old 
Which  fiird  the  Earth  with  passing  love- 
liness, 
Which  flung  strange  music  on  the  howling 

winds. 
And  odors  rapt  from  remote  Paradise? 
Thy  sense  is  clogg'd  with  dull  mortality, 
Thy  spirit  fetter'd  with  the  bond  of  clay: 
Open  thine  eye  and  see." 

I  look'd,  but  not 
Upon  his  face,  for  it  was  wonderful 
With  its  exceeding  brightness,  and  the  light 
6 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Of  the  great  angel  mind  which  look'd  from 

out 
The  starry  glowing  of  his  restless  eyes. 
I  felt  my  soul  grow  mighty,  and  my  spirit 
With  supernatural  excitation  bound 
Within  me,  and  my  mental  eye  grew  large 
With  such  a  vast  circumference  of  thought, 
That  in  my  vanity  I  seem'd  to  stand 
Upon  the  outward  verge  and  bound  alone 
Of  full  beatitude.     Each  failing  sense 
As  with  a  momentary  flash  of  light 
Grew  thrillingly  distinct  and  keen.     I  saw 
The  smallest  grain  that  dappled  the  dark 

Earth, 
The  indistinctest  atom  in  deep  air, 
The  Moon's  white  cities,  and  the  opal  width 
Of  her  small  glowing  lakes,  her  silver  heights 
Unvisited  with  dew  of  vagrant  cloud. 
And  the  unsounded,  undescended  depth 
Of  her  black  hollows.     The  clear  Galaxy 
Shorn  of  its  hoary  lustre,  wonderful, 
Distinct  and  vivid  with  sharp  points  of  light 
Blaze  within  blaze,    an  unimagin'd   depth 
And  harmony  of  planet-girded  Suns 
7 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

And  moon-encircled  planets,  wheel  in  wheel, 
Arch'd  the  wan  Sapphire.     Nay,  the  hum 

of  men, 
Or  other  things  talking  in  unknown  tongues, 
And  notes  of  busy  life  in  distant  worlds 
Beat  like  a  far  wave  on  my  anxious  ear. 

A    maze    of    piercing,    trackless,    thrilling 

thoughts 
Involving  and  embracing  each  with  each 
Rapid  as  fire,  inextricably  link'd, 
Expanding  momently  with  every  sight 
And   sound   which   struck   the   palpitating 

sense. 
The  issue  of  strong  impulse,  hurried  through 
The  riv'n  rapt  brain:  as  when  in  some  large 

lake 
From  pressure  of  descendant  crags,  which 

lapse 
Disjointed,    crumbling    from    their    parent 

slope 
At  slender  interval,  the  level  calm 
Is  ridg'd  with  restless  and  increasing  spheres 
Which  break  upon  each  other,  each  th'  effect 


Tennyson's   Suppressed   Poems 

Of   separate   impulse,   but   more  fleet   and 

strong 
Than  its  precursor,  till  the  eye  in  vain 
Amid  the  wild  unrest  of  swimming  shade 
Dappled  with  hollow  and  alternate  rise 
Of  interpenetrated  arc,  would  scan 
Definite  round. 

I  know  not  if  I  shape 
These  things  with  accurate  similitude 
From  visible  objects,  for  but  dimly  now. 
Less  vivid  than  a  half-for^tten  dream, 
The  memory  of  that  mental  excellence 
Comes  o'er  me,  and  it  may  be  I  entwine 
The  indecision  of  my  present  mind 
With  its  past  clearness,  yet  it  seems  to  me 
As  even  then  the  torrent  of  quick  thought 
Absorbed  me  from  the  nature  of  itself 
With  its  own  fleetness.     Where  is  he  that, 

borne 
Adown  the  sloping  of  an  arrowy  stream, 
Could  link  his  shallop  to  the  fleeting  edge, 
And  muse  midway  with  philosophic  calm 
Upon  the  wondrous  laws  which  regulate 
9 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

The  fierceness  of  the  bounding  element? 
My  thoughts  which  long  had  grovell'd  in 

the  slime. 
Of  this  dull  world,  like  dusky  worms  which 

house 
Beneath  unshaken  waters,  but  at  once 
Upon  some  earth-awakening  day  of  spring 
Do  pass  from  gloom  to  glory,  and  aloft 
Winnow  the  purple,  bearing  on  both  sides 
Double    display     of     starlit    wings     which 

burn 
Fanlike  and  fibred,  with  intensest  bloom: 
E'en  so  my  thoughts,  ere  while  so  low,  now 

felt 
Unutterable  buoyancy  and  strength 
To  bear  them  upward  through  the  trackless 

fields 
Of  undefin'd  existence  far  and  free. 

Then  first  within  the  South  methought  I 

saw 
A  wilderness  of  spires,  and  crystal  pile 
Of  rampart  upon  rampart,  dome  on  dome, 
Illimitable  range  of  battlement 

ID 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

On  battlement,  and  the  Imperial  height 
Of  Canopy  o'ercanopied. 

Behind, 
In   diamond  light,   upsprung  the  dazzling 

Peaks* 
Of  Pyramids,  as  far  surpassing  Earth's 
As  Heaven  than  Earth  is  fairer.     Each  aloft 
Upon  his  narrow 'd  Eminence  bore  globes 
Of  wheeling  suns,  or  stars,  or  semblances 
Of  either,  showering  circular  abyss 
Of  radiance.     But  the  glory  of  the  place 
Stood  out  a  pillar 'd  front  of  burnish 'd  gold 
Interminably  high,  if  gold  it  were 
Or  metal  more  ethereal,  and  beneath 
Two  doors  of  blinding  brilliance,  where  no 

gaze 
Might  rest,  stood  open,  and  the  eye  could  scan 
Through    length    of    porch    and    lake    and 

boundless    hall, 


*  In  first  edition  "Cones,"  but  writing  in  1831  to  a  Cam- 
bridge printer,  who  wished  to  reprint  the  Prize  Poems,  Tenny- 
son said:  "For  'Cones  of  Pyramids,'  which  is  nonsense,  I  will 
thank  you  to  substitute  'Peaks  of  Pyramids'"  {Life,  vol.  i., 
p.  4S). 

II 


Tennyson's    Suppressed    Poems 

Part  of  a  throne  of  fiery  flame,  wherefrom 
The  snowy  skirting  of  a  garment  hung, 
And  glimpse  of  multitudes  of  multitudes 
That  minister 'd  around  it — if  I  saw 
These  things  distinctly,  for  my  human  brain 
Stagger 'd    beneath    the    vision,    and    thick 

night 
Came  down  upon  my  eyelids,  and  I  fell. 

With  ministering  hand  he  rais'd  me  up; 
Then  with  a  mournful  and  ineffable  smile. 
Which  but  to  look  on  for  a  moment  fiU'd 
My  eyes  with  irresistible  sweet  tears. 
In  accents  of  majestic  melody. 
Like  a  swol'n  river's  gushings  in  still  night 
Mingled  with  floating  music,  thus  he  spake: 

*' There  is  no  mightier  Spirit  than  I  to  sway 
The  heart  of  man :  and  teach  him  to  attain 
By  shadowing  forth  the  Unattainable; 
And   step   by   step    to    scale   that   mighty 

stair 
Whose  landing-place  is  wrapt  about  with 

clouds 

12 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Of  glory  of  Heaven.*     With  earliest  Light  of 

Spring, 
And  in  the  glow  of  sallow  Summertide, 
And  in  red  Autumn  when  the  winds  are 

wild 
With  gambols,  and  when  full- voiced  Winter 

roofs 
The  headland  with  inviolate  white  snow, 
I  play  about  his  heart  a  thousand  ways, 
Visit  his  eyes  with  visions,  and  his  ears 
With   harmonies    of   wind    and   wave    and 

wood 
— Of  winds  which  tell   of  waters,   and  of 

waters 
Betraying  the  close  kisses  of  the  wind — 
And  win  him  unto  me:  and  few  there  be 
So  gross  of  heart  who  have  not  felt  and 

known 
A  higher  than  they  see :  They  with  dim  eyes 
Behold  me  darkling.     Lo!  I  have  given  thee 
To  understand  my  presence,  and  to  feel 
My  fulness;  I  have  iill'd  thy  lips  with  power. 

*  "Be  ye  perfect  even  as  your  Father  in  Heaven  is  perfect." 

13 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

I  have  rais'd  thee  nigher  to  the  Spheres  of 

Heaven, 
Man's    first,    last    home:    and    thou    with 

ravish 'd  sense 
Listenest  the  lordly  music  flowing  from 
Th'  illimitable  years.     I  am  the  Spirit, 
The  permeating  life  which  courseth  through 
All  th'  intricate  and  labyrinthine  veins 
Of  the  great  vine  of  Fable,  which,  outspread 
With  growth  of  shadowing  leaf  and  clusters 

rare, 
Reacheth  to  every  corner  under  Heaven, 
Deep-rooted  in  the  living  soil  of  truth: 
So  that  men's  hopes  and  fears  take  refuge 

in 
The  fragrance  of  its  complicated  glooms 
And    cool   impleached   twilights.     Child   of 

Man, 
See'st   thou   yon   river,   whose   translucent 

wave, 
Forth     issuing     from     darkness,     windeth 

through 
The  argent  vStreets  o'  the  City,  imaging 
The  soft  inversion  of  her  tremulous  Domes: 
14 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Her    gardens    frequent    with    the    stately- 
Palm, 

Her  Pagods  hung  with  music  of  sweet  bells; 

Her  obelisks  of  ranged  Chrysolite, 

Minarets  and  towers?     Lo!  how  he  passeth 
by, 

And  gulphs  himself   in  sands,  as   not  en- 
during 

To  carry  through  the  world  those  waves, 
which  bore 

The  reflex  of  my  City  in  their  depths. 

Oh  City!     Oh  latest  Throne!  where  I  was 
rais'd 

To  be  a  mystery  of  loveliness 

Unto  all  eyes,  the  time  is  wellnigh  come 

When  I  must  render  up  this  glorious  home 

To  keen  Discovery:  soon  yon  brilliant  tow- 
ers 

Shall  darken  with  the  waving  of  her  wand; 

Darken,  and  shrink  and  shiver  into  huts, 

Black  specks  amid  a  waste  of  dreary  sand, 

Low-built,    mud-waird.    Barbarian    settle- 
ment. 

How  chang'd  from  this  fair  City!'* 
IS 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Thus  far  the  Spirit: 
Then  parted  Heavenward  on  the  wing:  and  I 
Was  left  alone  on  Calpe,  and  the  Moon 
Had   fallen   from  the   night,    and   all   was 
dark! 

[A  few  lines  from  "Timbuctoo"  were  incorporated  in  "Ode 
to  Memory"  (1830)  and  "The  Lover's  Tale"  (1833)]. 

[The  following  review  of  "Timbuctoo"  was  published  in  the 
AthenceuTn  oi  July  22,  1829:  "We  have  accustomed  ourselves 
to  think,  perhaps  without  any  very  good  reason,  that  poetry 
was  likely  to  perish  among  us  for  a  considerable  period  after 
the  great  generation  of  poets  which  is  now  passing  away. 
The  age  seems  determined  to  contradict  us,  and  that  in  the 
most  decided  manner;  for  it  has  put  f 01-th  poetry  by  a  young 
man,  and  that  where  we  should  least  expect  it — namely,  in 
a  prize  poem.  These  productions  have  often  been  ingenious 
and  elegant,  but  we  have  never  before  seen  one  of  them  which 
indicated  really  first-rate  poetical  genius,  and  which  would 
have  done  honor  to  any  men  that  ever  wrote.  Svich,  we  do 
not  hesitate  to  affirm,  is  the  little  work  before  us;  and  the 
examiners  seem  to  have  felt  it  like  ourselves,  for  they  have 
assigned  the  prize  to  the  author,  though  the  measure  in  which 
he  writes  was  never  before,  we  believe,  thus  selected  for 
honor.  We  extract  a  few  lines  to  justify  our  admiration 
(50  lines,  62-112,  quoted).  How  many  men  have  lived  for 
a  century  who  could  equal  this?"  At  the  time  when  this 
highly  eulogistic  notice  of  the  youthful  unknown  poet  ap- 
peared, the  AthencBum  was  edited  by  John  Sterling  and 
Frederick  Denison  Maurice,  its  then  proprietors.] 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


[The  following  poems,  numbered  I-XXIV,  appeared  in  the 
volume  Poems  Chiefly  Lyrical.  London:  Effingham  Wilson, 
Royal  Exchange,  1830.  They  were  never  republished  by 
Tennyson:  nor  were  they  obtainable  in  England  in  any  form 
until  the  appearance  of  Mr,  Churton  Collins's  edition  of  Ten- 
nyson's Early  Poems.  In  America,  however,  they  have  been 
current  in  various  more  or  less  incomplete  forms.] 

I 
The    "How"    and    the   "Why" 

1  AM  any  man's  suitor, 
If  any  will  be  my  tutor: 

Some  say  this  life  is  pleasant, 
Some  think  it  speedeth  fast: 

In  time  there  is  no  present, 
In  eternity  no  future, 
In  eternity  no  past. 

We  laugh,  we  cry,  we  are  born,  we  die. 

Who  will  riddle  me  the  how  and  the  why? 

The  bulrush  nods  unto  his  brother 
The  wheatears  whisper  to  each  other: 

2  17 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

What  is  it  they  say?     What  do  they  there? 
Why  two  and  two  make  four?     Why  round 

is  not  square? 
Why  the  rocks   stand   still,   and  the  light 

cloud  fly? 
Why  the  heavy  oak  groans,  and  the  white 

willows  sigh? 
Why  deep  is  not  high,  and  high  is  not  deep? 
Whether  we  wake  or  whether  we  sleep? 
Whether  we  sleep  or  whether  we  die? 
How  you  are  you?     Why  I  am  I? 
Who  will  riddle  me  the  how  and  the  whyf 

The  world  is  somewhat;  it  goes  on  some- 
how; 

But  what  is  the  meaning  of  then  and  nowf 

I  feel  there  is  something;  but  how  and 
what? 

I  know  there  is  somewhat;  but  what  and 
why? 

I  cannot  tell  if  that  somewhat  be  I. 

The  little  bird  pipeth  *'why?  why?'* 
In  the  summerwoods  when  the  sun  falls  low, 
i8 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

And  the   great   bird   sits   on   the   opposite 

bough, 
And  stares  in  his  face  and  shouts  "how? 

how?" 
And  the  black  owl  scuds  down  the  mellow 

twilight, 
And  chaunts   "how?  how?"  the  whole  of 

the  night. 

Why  the  life  goes  when  the  blood  is  spilt? 
What  the  life  is?  where  the  soul  may  lie? 
Why  a  church  is  with  a  steeple  built; 
And  a  house  with  a  chimney-pot? 
Who  will  riddle  me  the  how  and  the  what? 
Who  will  riddle  me  the  what  and  the  why? 


Tennyson^s    Suppressed  Poems 


II 
The    Burial    of   Love 

His  eyes  in  eclipse, 

Pale  cold  his  lips, 
The  light  of  his  hopes  unfed. 

Mute  his  tongue, 

His  bow  unstrung 
With  the  tears  he  hath  shed, 
Backward  drooping  his  graceful  head. 

Love  is  dead; 

His  last  arrow  sped; 
He  hath  not  another  dart; 

Go — carry  him  to  his  dark  death-bed; 
Bury  him  in  the  cold,  cold  heart — 

Love  is  dead. 

Oh,  truest  love!  art  thou  forlorn, 

And   unrevenged?   thy   pleasant   wiles 
20 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 

Forgotten,  and  thine  innocent  joy? 

Shall  hollow-hearted  apathy, 
The  cruellest  form  of  perfect  scorn, 

With  languor  of  most  hateful  smiles. 
Forever  write 
In  the  weathered  light 

Of  the  tearless  eye 

An  epitaph  that  all  may  spy? 

No!  sooner  she  herself  shall  die. 
For  her  the  showers  shall  not  fall, 
Nor  the  round  sun  that  shineth  to  all; 

Her  light  shall  into  darkness  change; 
For  her  the  green  grass  shall  not  spring, 
Nor  the  rivers  flow,  nor  the  sweet  birds  sing. 

Till  Love  have  his  full  revenge. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


III 
To   - 


Sainted  Juliet!     dearest  name! 

If  to  love  be  life  alone, 
Divinest  Juliet, 

I  love  thee,  and  live;  and  yet 
Love  unreturned  is  like  the  fragrant  flame 

Folding  the  slaughter  of  the  sacrifice 

Offered  to  Gods  upon  an  altarthrone; 
My  heart  is  lighted  at  thine  eyes, 
Changed  into  fire,   and  blown  about  with 
sighs. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 


IV 
Song 


I'  THE  glooming  light 
Of  middle  night, 
So  cold  and  white, 
Worn  Sorrow  sits  by  the  moaning  wave; 
Beside  her  are  laid 
Her  mattock  and  spade, 
For   she    hath  half    delved  her   own   deep 
grave. 
Alone  she  is  there: 
The    white    clouds    drizzle:    her   hair    falls 
loose ; 
Her  shoulders  are  bare; 
Her   tears    are    mixed  with    the    bearded 
dews. 

23 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

II 

Death  standeth  by; 

She  will  not  die; 

With  glazed  eye 
She  looks  at  her  grave:  she  cannot  sleep; 

Ever  alone 

She  maketh  her  moan: 
She  cannot  speak;  she  can  only  weep; 

For  she  will  not  hope. 
The  thick  snow  falls  on  her  flake  by  flake, 

The  dull  wave  mourns  down  the  slope, 
The  world  will  not  change,  and  her  heart 
will  not  break. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


V 
Song 


Every  day  hath  its  night: 
Every  night  its  mom: 
Through  dark  and  bright 

Winged  hours  are  borne; 
Ah!  welaway! 
Seasons  flower  and  fade; 
Golden  calm  and  storm 
Mingle  day  by  day. 
There  is  no  bright  form 
Doth  not  cast  a  shade — 
Ah!  welaway! 

II 

When  we  laugh,  and  our  mirth 
Apes  the  happy  vein, 

25 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 

WeVe  so  kin  to  earth 

Pleasaunce  fathers  pain — 
Ah!  welaway! 
Madness  laugheth  loud: 

Laughter  bringeth  tears: 
Eyes  are  worn  away 
Till  the  end  of  fears 
Cometh  in  the  shroud, 
Ah!  welaway! 

Ill 

All  is  change,  woe  or  weal; 
Joy  is  sorrow's  brother; 
Grief  and  sadness  steal 

Symbols  of  each  other; 
Ah!  welaway! 
Larks  in  heaven's  cope 

Sing:  the  culvers  mourn 
All  the  livelong  day. 
Be  not  all  forlorn; 
Let  us  weep  in  hope — 
Ah!  welaway! 


I'ennyson's    Suppressed    Poems 


VI 

Hero   to    Leander 

Oh  go  not  yet,  my  love, 

The  night  is  dark  and  vast; 
The  white  moon  is  hid  in  her  heaven  above, 

And  the  waves  cHmb  high  and  fast. 
Oh!  kiss  me,  kiss  me,  once  again, 

Lest  thy  kiss  should  be  the  last. 

Oh  kiss  me  ere  we  part; 

Grow  <:loser  to  my  heart. 
My  heart  is  warmer  surely  than  the  bosom 
of  the  main. 

Oh  joy!  O  bliss  of  blisses! 

My  heart  of  hearts  art  thou. 
Come  bathe  me  with  thy  kisses, 

My  eyelids  and  my  brow. 
Hark  how  the  wild  rain  hisses. 

And  the  loud  sea  roars  below. 
27 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Thy  heart  beats  through  thy  rosy  limbs 

So  gladly  doth  it  stir; 
Thine  eye  in  drops  of  gladness  swims. 

I  have  bathed  thee  with  the  pleasant 
myrrh ; 
Thy  locks  are  dripping  balm; 

Thou    shalt    not    wander    hence    to- 
night, 
I'll  stay  thee  with  my  kisses. 

To-night  the  roaring  brine 
Will  rend  thy  golden  tresses; 

The  ocean  with  the  morrow  light 
Will  be  both  blue  and  calm; 

And  the  billow  will  embrace  thee  with 
a  kiss  as  soft  as  mine. 

No  western  odors  wander 

On  the  black  and  moaning  sea, 
And  when  thou  art  dead,  Leander, 

My  soul  must  follow  thee! 
Oh  go  not  yet,  my  love. 

Thy  voice  is  sweet  and  low; 
The  deep  salt  wave  breaks  in  above 

Those  marble  steps  below. 
28 


Tennyson  *s    Suppressed   Poems 

The  turretstairs  are  wet 
That  lead  into  the  sea. 

Leander!  go  not  yet. 

The  pleasant  stars  have  set: 

Oh!  go  not,  go  not  yet, 
Or  I  will  follow  thee. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


VII 
The    Mystic 

Angels  have  talked  with  him,  and  showed 

him  thrones: 
Ye  knew  him  not:  he  was  not  one  of  ye, 
Ye  scorned  him  with  an  undiscerning  scorn : 
Ye  could  not  read  the  marvel  in  his  eye. 
The  still  serene  abstraction;  he  hath  felt 
The  vanities  of  after  and  before; 
Albeit,  his  spirit  and  his  secret  heart 
The  stem  experiences  of  converse  lives. 
The  linked  woes  of  many  a  fiery  change 
Had  purified,  and  chastened,  and  made  free. 
Always  there  stood  before  him,  night  and 

day, 
Of  wayward  vary  colored  circumstance, 
The  imperishable  presences  serene, 
Colossal,  without  form,  or  sense,  or  sound, 
Dim  shadows  but  unwaning  presences 
30 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Fourfaced  to  four  corners  of  the  sky; 
And  yet  again,  three  shadows,  fronting  one. 
One  forward,  one  respectant,  three  but  one; 
And  yet  again,  again  and  evermore, 
For  the  two  first  were  not,  but  only  seemed, 
One  shadow  in  the  midst  of  a  great  light, 
One  reflex  from  eternity  on  time. 
One  mighty  countenance  of  perfect  calm, 
Awful  with  most  invariable  eyes. 
For  him  the  silent  congregated  hours. 
Daughters  of  time,   divinely  tall,  beneath 
Severe   and  youthful  brows,   with  shining 

eyes 
Smiling  a  godlike  smile  (the  innocent  light 
Of    earHest    youth    pierced    through    and 

through  with  all 
Keen  knowledges  of  low-embowed  eld) 
Upheld,  and  ever  hold  aloft  the  cloud 
Which  droops  low  hung  on  either  gate  of 

life, 
Both  birth  and  death;  he  is  the  centre  fixt, 
Saw  far  on  each  side  through  the  grated 

gates 
Most  pale  and  clear  and  lovely  distances. 
31 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

He  often  lying  broad  awake,  and  yet 
Remaining  from  the  body,  and  apart 
In  intellect  and  power  and  will,  hath  heard 
Time  flowing  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
And  all  things  creeping  to  a  day  of  doom. 
How   could   ye  know  him?     Ye  were  yet 

within 
The  narrower  circle ;  he  had  wellnigh  reached 
The  last,  with  which  a  region  of  white  flame, 
Pure  without  heat,  into  a  larger  air 
Upbuming,  and  an  ether  of  black  blue, 
Investeth  and  ingirds  all  other  lives. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


VIII 
The    Grasshopper 


Voice  of  the  summerwind. 

Joy  of  the  summerplain, 

Life  of  the  summerhours, 
Carol  clearly,  bound  along. 

No  Tithon  thou  as  poets  feign 
(Shame  fall  'em  they  are  deaf  and  blind) 
But  an  insect  lithe  and  strong, 

Bowing  the  seeded  summerflowers. 
Prove  their  falsehood  and  thy  quarrel, 

Vaulting  on  thine  airy  feet. 
Clap  thy  shielded  sides  and  carol, 

Carol  clearly,  chirrup  sweet 
Thou  art  a  mailed  warrior  in  youth  and 
strength  complete; 

9  33 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Armed  cap-a-pie, 
Full  fair  to  see; 

Unknowing  fear, 
Undreading  loss, 

A  gallant  cavalier 
Sans  peur  et  sans  reproche, 

In  sunlight  and  in  shadow. 
The  Bayard  of  the  meadow. 


II 

I  would  dwell  with  thee, 

Merry  grasshopper, 
Thou  art  so  glad  and  free, 

And  as  light  as  air; 
Thou  hast  no  sorrow  or  tears, 
Thou  hast  no  compt  of  years, 
No  withered  immortality, 
But  a  short  youth  sunny  and  free. 
Carol  clearly,  bound  along, 

Soon  thy  joy  is  over, 
A  summer  of  loud  song. 

And  slumbers  in  the  clover. 
34 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

What  hast  thou  to  do  with  evil 
In  thine  hour  of  love  and  revel, 
In  thy  heat  of  summerpride, 
Pushing  the  thick  roots  aside 
Of  the  singing  flowered  grasses, 
That    brush    thee    with    their    silken 
tresses  ? 
What  hast  thou  to  do  with  evil. 
Shooting,  singing,  ever  springing 

In  and  out  the  emerald  glooms, 
Ever  leaping,  ever  singing. 

Lighting  on  the  golden  blooms? 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


IX 
Love,  Pride  and  Forgetfulness 

Ere  yet  my  heart  was  sweet  Love's  tomb, 

Love  labored  honey  busily. 

I  was  the  hive  and  Love  the  bee, 

My  heart  the  honey-comb. 

One  very  dark  and  chilly  night 

Pride  came  beneath  and  held  a  light. 

The  cruel  vapors  went  through  all, 
Sweet  Love  was  withered  in  his  cell; 
Pride  took  Love's  sweets,  and  by  a  spell 
Did  change  them  into  gall; 
And  Memory  tho'  fed  by  Pride 
Did  wax  so  thin  on  gall. 
Awhile  she  scarcely  lived  at  all, 
What  marvel  that  she  died? 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


X 

Chorus* 

The  varied  earth,  the  moving  heaven, 

The  rapid  waste  of  roving  sea, 
The  fountainpregnant  mountains  riven 

To  shapes  of  wildest  anarchy. 
By  secret  fire  and  midnight  storms 

That  wander  round  their  windy  cones, 
The  subtle  life,  the  countless  forms 

Of  living  things,  the  wondrous  tones 
Of  man  and  beast  are  full  of  strange 
Astonishment  and  boundless  change. 

The  day,  the  diamonded  light, 

The  echo,  feeble  child  of  sound. 

The  heavy  thunder's  girding  might, 

The  herald  lightning's  starry  bound, 

♦  In  an  unpublished  drama  written  very  early, 

37 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

The  vocal  spring  of  bursting  bloom, 

The  naked  summer's  glowing  birth, 

The  troublous  autumn's  sallow  gloom, 
The  hoarhead  winter  paving  earth 

With  sheeny  white,  are  full  of  strange 

Astonishment  and  boundless  change. 

Each  sun  which  from  the  centre  flings 

Grand  music  and  redundant  fire. 
The  burning  belts,  the  mighty  rings. 

The  murmurous  planets'  rolling  choir, 
The  globefilled  arch  that,  cleaving  air, 

Lost  in  its  effulgence  sleeps. 
The  lawless  comets  as  they  glare. 

And  thunder  thro'  the  sapphire  deeps 
In  wayward  strength,  are  full  of  strange 
Astonishment  and  boundless  change. 


Tennyson^s    Suppressed   Poems 


XI 
Lost    Hope 

You  cast  to  ground  the  hope  which  once 
was  mine, 
But  did  the  while  your  harsh  decree 
deplore, 
Embalming   with   sweet   tears   the   vacant 
shrine. 
My  heart,  where  Hope  had  been  and 
was  no  more. 

So  on  an  oaken  sprout 

A  goodly  acorn  grew; 
But  winds  from  heaven  shook  the  acorn 
out, 

And  filled  the  cup  with  dew. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XII 
The    Tears    of   Heaven 

Heaven  weeps  above  the  earth  all  night 

till  morn, 
In  darkness  weeps,  as  all  ashamed  to  weep, 
Because   the    earth    hath    made    her   state 

forlorn 
With  self  wrought  evils  of  unnumbered  years, 
And  doth  the  fruit  of  her  dishonor  reap. 
And  all  the  day  heaven  gathers  back  her 

tears 
Into  her  own  blue  eyes  so  clear  and  deep, 
And  showering  down  the  glory  of  lightsome 

day, 
Smiles  on  the  earth's  worn  brow  to  win  her 

if  she  may. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XIII 
Love    and    Sorrow 

O  Maiden,  fresher  than  the  first  green  leaf 

With  which  the  fearful  springtide  flecks  the 
lea, 

Weep  not,  Almeida,  that  I  said  to  thee 

That  thou  hast  half  my  heart,  for  bitter 
grief 

Doth  hold  the  other  half  in  sovranty. 

Thou  art  my  heart's  sun  in  love's  crystal- 
line : 

Yet  on  both  sides  at  once  thou  canst  not 
shine : 

Thine  is  the  bright  side  of  my  heart,  and 
thine 

My  heart's  day,  but  the  shadow  of  my 
heart. 

Issue  of  its  own  substance,  my  heart's  night 

Thou  canst  not  lighten  even  with  thy  light, 
41 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

All  powerful  in  beauty  as  thou  art. 
Almeida,  if  my  heart  were  substanceless, 
Then  might  thy  rays  pass  thro'  to  the  other 

side, 
So  vSwiftly,  that  they  nowhere  would  abide, 
But  lose  themselves  in  utter  emptiness. 
Half-light,  half -shadow,  let  my  spirit  sleep; 
They  never  learnt  to  love  who  never  knew 

to  weep. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XIV 
To    a    Lady    Sleeping 

O  THOU  whose  fringed  lids  I  gaze  upon, 
Through  whose  dim  brain  the  winged  dreams 

are  borne, 
Unroof  the  shrines  of  clearest  vision. 
In  honor  of  the  silverfiecked  morn: 
Long  hath  the  white  wave  of  the  virgin 

light 
Driven  back  the  billow  of  the  dreamful  dark. 
Thou  all  unwittingly  prolongest  night, 
Though  long  ago  listening  the  poised  lark. 
With  eyes  dropt  downward  through  the  blue 

serene. 
Over  heaven's  parapets  the  angels  lean. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XV 
Sonnet 

Could  I  outwear  my  present  state  of  woe 
With   one  brief  winter,   and  indue  i'   the 

spring 
Hues  of  fresh  youth,  and  mightily  outgrow 
The  wan  dark  coil  of  faded  suffering — 
Forth  in  the  pride  of  beauty  issuing 
A  sheeny  snake,  the  light  of  vernal  bowers, 
Moving  his  crest  to  all  sweet  plots  of  flowers 
And  watered  vallies  where  the  young  birds 

sing; 
Could  I  thus  hope  my  lost  delights  renewing, 
I  straightly  would  commend  the  tears  to 

creep 
From  my  charged  lids ;  but  inwardly  I  weep : 
Some  vital  heat  as  yet  my  heart  is  wooing: 
This  to  itself  hath  drawn  the  frozen  rain 
From  my  cold  eyes  and  melted  it  again. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 


XVI 
Sonnet 

Though  Night  hath  climbed  her  peak  of 

highest  noon, 
And   bitter  blasts  the   screaming   autumn 

whirl, 
All  night  through  archways  of  the  bridged 

pearl 
And  portals  of  pure  silver  walks  the  moon. 
Wake  on,  my  soul,  nor  crouch  to  agony: 
Turn    cloud    to    light,    and    bitterness    to 

joy, 

And  dross  to  gold  with  glorious  alchemy, 

Basing  thy  throne  above  the  world's  an- 
noy. 

Reign  thou  above  the  storms  of  sorrow  and 
ruth 

That  roar  beneath;  unshaken  peace  hath 
won  thee: 

45 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

So  shalt  thou  pierce  the  woven  glooms  of 

truth ; 
So  shall  the  blessing  of  the  meek  be  on 

thee ; 
So  in  thine  hour  of  dawn,  the  body's  youth, 
An  honorable  eld  shall  come  upon  thee. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed    Poems 


XVII 
Sonnet 

Shall    the    hag    Evil    die    with    child    of 

Good, 
Or  propagate  again  her  loathed  kind, 
Thronging  the  cells  of  the  diseased  mind, 
Hateful  with   hanging   cheeks,   a  withered 

brood. 
Though    hourly    pastured    on    the    salient 

blood? 
Oh!  that  the  wind  which  bloweth  cold  or 

heat 
Would   shatter    and   o'erbear    the   brazen 

beat 
Of  their  broad  vans,  and  in  the  solitude 
Of  middle  space  confound  them,  and  blow 

back 
Their  wild  cries  down  their  cavemthroats, 

and  slake 

47 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 

With  points  of  blastborne  hail  their  heated 
eyne! 

So  their  wan  limbs  no  more  might  come  be- 
tween 

The  moon  and  the  moon's  reflex  in  the 
night; 

Nor  blot  with  floating  shades  the  solar  light. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

XVIII 
Sonnet 

The  pallid  thunderstricken  sigh  for  gain, 
Down  an  ideal  stream  they  ever  float, 
And  sailing  on  Pactolus  in  a  boat, 
Drown  soul  and  sense,  while  wistfully  they 

strain 
Weak  eyes  upon  the  glistering  sands  that 

robe 
The  understream.    The  wise  could  he  behold 
Cathedralled  caverns  of  thick-ribbed  gold 
And  branching  silvers  of  the  central  globe. 
Would  marvel  from  so  beautiful  a  sight 
How  scorn  and  ruin,  pain  and  hate  could 

flow: 
But  Hatred  in  a  gold  cave  sits  below. 
Pleached  with  her  hair,  in  mail  of  argent  light 
Shot  into  gold,  a  snake  her  forehead  clips 
And  skins  the  color  from  her  trembling  lips. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XIX 
Love 


Thou,  from  the  first,  unborn,  undying  love, 
Albeit  we  gaze  not  on  thy  glories  near, 
Before  the  face  of  God  didst  breathe  and 

move, 
Though  night  and  pain  and  ruin  and  death 

reign  here. 
Thou  f oldest,  like  a  golden  atmosphere, 
The  very  throne  of  the  eternal  God: 
Passing  through  thee  the  edicts  of  his  fear 
Are  mellowed  into  music,  borne  abroad 
By  the  loud  winds,  though  they  uprend  the 

sea, 
Even  from  his  central  deeps:  thine  empery 
Is  over  all:  thou  wilt  not  brook  eclipse; 
Thou  goest  and  retumest  to  His  Lips 
50 


Tennyson^s    Suppressed   Poems 

Like  lightning:  thou  dost  ever  brood  above 
The  silence  of  all  hearts,  unutterable  Love. 


II 

To  know  thee  is  all  wisdom,  and  old  age 
Is  but  to  know  thee:  dimly  we  behold  thee 
Athwart  the  veils  of  evil  which  enfold  thee. 
We  beat  upon  our  aching  hearts  with  rage; 
We  cry  for  thee:  we  deem  the  world  thy 

tomb. 
As  dwellers  in  lone  planets  look  upon 
The  mighty  disk  of  their  majestic  sun, 
Hollowed  in  awful  chasms  of  wheeling  gloom. 
Making  their  day  dim,  so  we  gaze  on  thee. 
Come,  thou  of  many  crowns,  white-robed 

love. 
Oh!  rend  the  veil  in  twain:  all  men  adore 

thee; 
Heaven  crieth  after  thee;  earth  waileth  for 

thee : 
Breathe  on  thy  winged  throne,  and  it  shall 

move 
In  music  and  in  light  o'er  land  and  sea. 
51 


Tennyson^s    Suppressed   Poems 

III 

And  now — methinks  I  gaze  upon  thee  now, 
As  on  a  serpent  in  his  agonies 
Awestricken  Indians;  what  time  laid  low 
And  crushing  the  thick  fragrant  reeds  he 

lies, 
When  the  new  year  warm  breathed  on  the 

earth, 
Waiting  to  light  him  with  his  purple  skies, 
Calls  to  him  by  the  fountain  to  uprise. 
Already  with  the  pangs  of  a  new  birth 
Strain  the  hot  spheres  of  his  convulsed  eyes, 
And  in  his  writhings  awful  hues  begin 
To  wander  down  his  sable  sheeny  sides. 
Like  light  on  troubled  waters:  from  within 
Anon  he  rusheth  forth  with  merry  din, 
And   in   him   light   and   joy   and   strength 

abides ; 
And  from  his  brows  a  crown  of  living  light 
Looks  through  the  thickstemmed  woods  by 

day  and  night. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XX 

English    War    Song 

Who  fears  to  die?     Who  fears  to  die? 
Is  there  any  here  who  fears  to  die 
He  shall  find  what  he  fears,  and  none  shall 
grieve 
For  the  man  who  fears  to  die; 
But  the  withering  scorn  of  the  many  shall 
cleave 
To  the  man  who  fears  to  die. 

Chorus 
Shout  for  England! 
Ho!  for  England! 
George  for  England! 
Merry  England! 
England  for  aye! 

The  hollow  at  heart  shall  crouch  forlorn, 
He  shall  eat  the  bread  of  common  scorn; 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

It  shall  be  steeped  in  the  salt,  salt  tear, 
Shall  be  steeped  in  his  own  salt  tear: 
Far  better,  far  better  he  never  were  born 
Than  to  shame  merry  England  here. 

Chorus 
Shout  for  England!  etc. 

There  standeth  our  ancient  enemy; 
Hark!  he  shouteth — the  ancient  enemy! 

On  the  ridge  of  the  hill  his  banners  rise ; 

They  stream  like  fire  in  the  skies; 
Hold  up  the  Lion  of  England  on  high 

Till  it  dazzle  and  blind  his  eyes. 

Chorus 
Shout  for  England!  etc. 

Come   along!   we    alone   of  the   earth  are 

free ; 
The  child  in  our  cradles  is  bolder  than  he; 
For  where  is  the  heart  and  strength  of 

slaves? 
Oh!  where  is  the  strength  of  slaves? 
54 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 

He  is  weak!  we  are  strong;  he  a  slave,  we 
are  free; 
Come  along!  we  will  dig  their  graves. 

Chorus 
Shout  for  England!  etc. 

There  standeth  our  ancient  enemy; 
Will  he  dare  to  battle  with  the  free? 

Spur  along!  spur  amain!  charge  to  the 
fight: 

Charge!  charge  to  the  fight! 
Hold  up  the  Lion  of  England  on  high! 

Shout  for  God  and  our  right! 

Chorus 
Shout  for  England!  etc. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed    Poems 


XXI 
National    Song 

There  is  no  land  like        jland 

Where'er  the  light  of  day  be; 
There  are  no  hearts  like  English  hearts, 

Such  hearts  of  oak  as  they  be. 
There  is  no  land  Hke  England 

Where'er  the  light  of  day  be; 
There  are  no  men  like  Englishmen, 

So  tall  and  bold  as  they  be. 

Chorus 
For  the  French  the  Pope  may  shrive  'em, 
For  the  devil  a  whit  we  heed  'em, 
As  for  the  French,  God  speed  'em 

Unto  their  hearts'  desire, 
And  the  merry  devil  drive  'em 

Through  the  water  and  the  fire. 

56 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Chorus 
Our  glory  is  our  freedom, 

We  lord  it  o'er  the  sea; 
We  are  the  sons  of  freedom, 

We  are  free. 

There  is  no  land  like  England, 

Where'er  ^^^e  Hght  of  day  be; 
There  are  nl  sv^ives  like  English  wives, 

So  fair  and  chaste  as  they  be. 
There  is  no  land  like  England, 

Where'er  the  light  of  day  be, 
There  are  no  maids  like  English  maids, 

So  beautiful  as  they  be. 

Chorus 
For  the  French,  etc. 


Tennyson^s    Suppressed   Poems 


XXII 
Dualisms 

Two  bees  within  a  chrystal  flowerbell  rocked 
Hum  a  lovelay  to  the  west  wind  at  noontide. 
Both  alike,  they  buzz  together, 
Both  aUke,  they  hum  together 
Through  and  through  the  flowered  heather. 

Where  in  a  creeping  cove  the  wave  un- 
shocked 
Lays  itself  calm  and  wide, 
Over  a  stream  two  birds  of  glancing  feather 
Do  woo  each  other,  carolling  together. 
Both  alike,  they  glide  together 

Side  by  side; 
Both  alike,  they  sing  together. 
Arching  blue-glossed  necks  beneath  the  pur- 
ple weather. 

S8 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Two  children  lovelier  than  love,  adown  the 

lea  are  singing, 
As  they  gambol,  lilygarlands  ever  stringing: 
Both  in  blosmwhite  silk  are  f rocked: 
Like,  unlike,  they  roam  together 
Under  a  summervault  of  golden  weather; 
Like,  unlike,  they  sing  together 

Side  by  side; 
Mid  May's  darling  goldenlocked, 
Summer's  tanling  diamondeyed. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 


XXIII 
ol    peopTes 


All  thoughts,  all  creeds,  all  dreams  are  true, 

All  visions  wild  and  strange; 
Man  is  the  measure  of  all  truth 

Unto  himself.     All  truth  is  change: 
All  men  do  walk  in  sleep,  and  all 

Have  faith  in  that -they  dream: 
For  all  things  are  as  they  seem  to  all, 

And  all  things  flow  like  a  stream. 


II 

There  is  no  rest,  no  calm,  no  pause, 
Nor  good  nor  ill,  nor  light  nor  shade, 

Nor  essence  nor  eternal  laws: 
For  nothing  is,  but  all  is  made, 
60 


Tennyson*s   Suppressed  Poems 

But  if  I  dream  that  all  these  are, 
They  are  to  me  for  that  I  dream; 

For  all  things  are  as  they  seem  to  all, 
And  all  things  flow  like  a  stream. 


Argal  —  This  very  opinion  is  only  true  relatively  to  the 
flowing  philosophers.     (Tennyson's  note.) 


Tennyson^s    Suppressed   Poems 


XXIV 
Song 


The  lint  white  and  the  throstlecock 
Have  voices  sweet  and  clear; 
All  in  the  bloomM  May. 
They  from  the  blosmy  brere 
Call  to  the  fleeting  year, 
If  that  he  would  them  hear 

And  stay. 
Alas!  that  one  so  beautiful 

Should  have  so  dull  an  ear! 


II 

Fair  year,  fair  year,  thy  children  call, 
But  thou  art  deaf  as  death; 
All  in  the  bloomed  May. 
62 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

When  thy  light  perisheth 
That  from  thee  issueth, 
Our  life  evanisheth: 

Oh!  stay! 
Alas!  that  lips  so  cruel-dumb 

Should  have  so  sweet  a  breath! 

Ill 

Fair  year,  with  brows  of  royal  love 
Thou  comest,  as  a  king, 
All  in  the  bloomM  May. 
Thy  golden  largess  fling, 
And  longer  hear  us  sing; 
Though  thou  art  fleet  of  wing, 

Yet  stay. 
Alas!  that  eyes  so  full  of  light 
Should  be  so  wandering! 

IV 

Thy  locks  are  all  of  sunny  sheen 
In  rings  of  gold  yronne,* 
All  in  the  bloomed  May. 

*  His  crispe  hair  in  ringis  was  yronne. — Chaucer,  Knight's 
Tale.     (Tennyson's  note.) 

63 


Tennyson^s    Suppressed   Poems 

We  pri'  thee  pass  not  on; 
If  thou  dost  leave  the  sun, 
Delight  is  with  thee  gone. 

Oh!  stay! 
Thou  art  the  fairest  of  thy  feres, 
We  pri'  thee  pass  not  on. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


[The  following  poems,  numbers  XXV -XXVII,  were  pub- 
lished in  The  Gem :  a  Literary  Annual.  London:  W.  Marshall, 
Holborn  Bars,     mdcccxxxi.] 

XXV 

A    Fragment 

Where  is  the  Giant  of  the  Sun,  which  stood 
In  the  midnoon  the  glory  of  old  Rhodes, 
A  perfect  Idol  with  profulgent  brows 
Far  sheening  down  the  purple  seas  to  those 
Who   sailed  from  Mizraim  underneath  the 

star 
Named  of  the  Dragon — and  between  whose 

limbs 
Of  brassy  vastness  broad-blown  Argosies 
Drave  into  haven?     Yet  endure  unscathed 
Of  changeful  cycles  the  great  Pyramids 
Broad-based  amid  the  fleeting  sands,  and 

sloped 
Into   the   slumberous   summer   noon;    but 

where, 

5  6$ 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Mysterious  Egypt,  are  thine  obelisks 
Graven  with  gorgeous  emblems  undiscerned  ? 
Thy    placid    Sphinxes    brooding    o'er    the 

Nile? 
Thy  shadowing  Idols  in  the  solitudes, 
Awful  Memnonian  countenances  calm 
Looking  athwart  the  burning  flats,  far  off 
Seen  by  the  high-necked  camel  on  the  verge 
Journeying    southward?     Where    are    thy 

monuments 
Piled  by  the  strong  and  sunborn  Anakim 
Over  their  crowned  brethren  On  and  Oph? 
Thy  Memnon,  when  his  peaceful  lips  are 

kissed 
With  earliest  rays,  that  from  his  mother's 

eyes 
Flow  over  the  Arabian  bay,  no  more 
Breathes   low  into    the    charmed    ears    of 

morn 
Clear  melody  flattering  the  crisped  Nile 
By  columned  Thebes.     Old  Memphis  hath 

gone  down: 
The  Pharaohs  are  no  more:  somewhere  in 

death 

66 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

They  sleep  with  staring  eyes  and  gilded  lips, 
Wrapped  round  with  spiced  cerements  in 

old  grots 
Rock-hewn  and  sealed  for  ever. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XXVI 
Anacreontics 

With  roses  muskybreathed, 
And  drooping  daffodilly, 
And  silverleaved  lily, 
And  ivy  darkly -wreathed, 
I  wove  a  crown  before  her, 
For  her  I  love  so  dearly, 
A  garland  for  Lenora. 
With  a  silken  cord  I  bound  it. 
Lenora,  laughing  clearly 
A  light  and  thrilling  laughter. 
About  her  forehead  wound  it, 
And  loved  me  ever  after. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XXVII 
No    More 

O  SAD  No  more!    O  sweet  No  more! 
O  strange  No  more! 
By  a  mossed  brookbank  on  a  stone 
I  smelt  a  wildweed  flower  alone; 
There  was  a  ringing  in  my  ears, 
And  both  my  eyes   gushed   out  with 
tears. 
Surely  all  pleasant  things  had  gone  before, 
Low-buried  fathom  deep  beneath  with  thee. 
No  more! 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XXVIII 
Sonnet 

[Published  in  the  Englishman's  Magazine,  August,  1831. 
London:  Edward  Moxon,  64  New  Bon,d  Street.  Reprinted 
in  Friendship's  Offering:  a  Literary  Album  for  1833.  London: 
Smith  and  Elder.     Reprinted  in  Life,  vol.  i.,  p.  80.J 

Check  every  outflash,  every  ruder  sally 
Of  thought  and  speech;  speak  low,  and 

give  up  wholly 
Thy  spirit  to  mild-minded  Melancholy; 
This  is  the  place.     Through  yonder  poplar 

alley 

Below,  the  blue-green  river  windeth  slowly; 

But  in  the  middle  of  the  sombre  valley 

The  crisped  waters  whisper  musically, 

And   all   the   haunted   place    is   dark   and 

holy. 
The   nightingale,  with  long   and  low  pre- 
amble, 

70 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Warbled   from   yonder   knoll   of   solemn 

larches. 
And  in  and  out  the  woodbine's  flowery 

arches 
The   summer   midges   wove   their   wanton 

gambol, 
And  all  the  white-stemmed  pinewood  slept 

above — 
When  in  this  valley  first  I  told  my  love. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XXIX 
Sonnet 

[PubKshed  in  Friendship's  Offering:  a  Literary  Album  for 
1832.  London:  Smith  and  Elder.  Reprinted,  unaltered,  in 
Life,  vol.  i.,  p.  65.] 

Me  my  own  fate  to  lasting  sorrow  doometh : 
Thy  woes   are  birds  of  passage,   transi- 
tory: 
Thy  spirit,  circled  with  a  living  glory. 
In  summer  still  a  summer  joy  resumeth. 
Alone  my  hopeless  melancholy  gloometh, 
Like  a  lone  cypress,  through  the  twilight 
hoary, 
From    an    old    garden    where    no    flower 
bloometh, 
One  cypress  on  an  inland  promontory. 
But  yet  my  lonely  spirit  follows  thine. 
As  round  the  rolling  earth  night  follows 
day: 

72 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

But  yet  thy  lights  on  my  horizon  shine 

Into  my  night  when  thou  art  far  away; 
I  am  so  dark,  alas!  and  thou  so  bright, 
When  we  two  meet  there's  never  perfect 
Ught. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XXX 
Sonnet 


[Published  in  the  Yorkshire  Literary  Annual  for  1832.  Edited 
by  C.  F.  Edgar.  London:  Longman  and  Co.  Reprinted  in  the 
Aihencsum,  May  4,  1867.] 


There  are  three  things  that  fill  my  heart 

with  sighs 
And  steep   my   soul  in   laughter   (when   I 

view 
Fair  maiden  forms  moving  like  melodies), 
Dimples,  roselips,  and  eyes  of  any  hue. 

There  are  three  things  beneath  the  blessed 

skies 
For  which  I  live — black  eyes,  and  brown 

and  blue; 
I  hold  them  all  most  dear;  but  oh!  black 

eyes, 
I  live  and  die,  and  only  die  for  you. 
74 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 

Of  late  such  eyes  looked  at  me — while  I 

mused 
At  sunset,  underneath  a  shadowy  plane 
In  old  Bayona,  nigh  the  Southern  Sea — 
From  an  half-open  lattice  looked  at  me. 

I  saw  no  more  only  those  eyes — confused 
And  dazzled  to  the  heart  with  glorious  pain. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 


[The  poems  numbered  XXXI-XL  were  published  in  the  1832 
volume:  "Poems  by  Alfred  Tennyson.  London:  Edward 
Moxon,  64  New  Bond  Street,  mdcccxxxiii."  Published  De- 
cember, 1832,  and  were  thereafter  suppressed. 

XXXI 

Sonnet 

On,  Beauty,  passing  beauty,  sweetest  Sweet! 
How  canst  thou  let  me  waste  my  youth 
in  sighs? 
I  only  ask  to  sit  beside  thy  feet. 

Thou  knowest  I  dare  not  look  into  thine 
eyes, 
Might  I  but  kiss   thy  hand  !     I  dare  not 
fold 
My   arms   about   thee — scarcely   dare  to 
speak. 
And  nothing  seems  to  me  so  wild  and  bold, 
As  with  one  kiss  to  touch  thy  blessed 
cheek. 

76 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Methinks  if  I  should  kiss  thee,  no  control 
Within  the  thrilling  brain  could  keep  afloat 
The  subtle  spirit.     Even  while  I  spoke, 

The  bare  word  kiss  hath  made  my  inner  soul 
To  tremble  like  a  lutestring,  ere  the  note 
Hath  melted  in  the  silence  that  it  broke. 


Tennyson^s    Suppressed   Poems 


XXXII 
The    Hesperides 

Hesperus  and  his  daughters  three. 
That  sing  about  the  golden  tree. 

— COMUS. 

The   Northwind  fall'ii,   in  the  newstarrM 

night 
Zidonian  Hanno,  voyaging  beyond 
The  hoary  promontory  of  Soloe 
Past  Thymiaterion,  in  calmed  bays, 
Between   the    Southern    and   the   Western 

Horn, 
Heard  neither  warbling  of  the  nightingale, 
Nor  melody  o'  the  Libyan  lotusfiute 
Blown  seaward  from  the  shore;  but  from  a 

slope 
That    ran    bloombright    into    the   Atlantic 

blue. 
Beneath  a  highland  leaning  down  a  weight 

78 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Of  cliffs,  and  zoned  below  with  cedarshade, 
Came  voices,  like  the  voices  in  a  dream, 
Continuous,  till  he  reached  the  outer  sea. 


SONG 


The  golden  apple,  the  golden  apple,  the 
hallowed  fruit, 

Guard  it  well,  guard  it  warily, 

Singing  airily 

Standing  about  the  charmed  root. 

Round  about  all  is  mute. 

As  the  snowfield  on  the  mountain-peaks. 

As  the  sandfield  at  the  mountain-foot. 

Crocodiles  in  briny  creeks 

Sleep  and  stir  not:  all  is  mute. 

If  ye  sing  not,  if  ye  make  false  meas- 
ure. 

We  shall  lose  eternal  pleasure, 

Worth  eternal  want  of  rest. 

Laugh  not  loudly:  watch  the  treasure 

Of  the  wisdom  of  the  West. 

79 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

In   a   corner  wisdom  whispers.     Five   and 

three 
(Let  it  not  be  preached  abroad)  make  an 

awful  mystery. 
For    the    blossom    unto    three  -  fold   music 

bloweth ; 
Evermore  it  is  bom  anew; 
And  the  sap  to  three-fold  music  fioweth, 
From  the  root 
Drawn  in  the  dark, 
Up  to  the  fruit, 

Creeping  under  the  fragrant  bark, 
Liquid  gold,  honeysweet,  thro'  and  thro*. 
Keen-eyed  Sisters,  singing  airily, 
Looking  warily 
Every  way, 

Guard  the  apple  night  and  day, 
Lest  one  from  the  East  come  and  take  it 

away. 

II 

Father    Hesper,     Father    Hesper,     watch, 

watch,  ever  and  aye, 
Looking  under  silver  hair  with  a  silver  eye. 
80 


Tennyson's   Suppressed   Poems 

Father,  twinkle  not  thy  steadfast  sight; 
Kingdoms  lapse,  and  climates  change,  and 

races  die; 
Honor  comes  with  mystery; 
Hoarded  wisdom  brings  delight. 
Number,  tell  them  over  and  number 
How  many  the  mystic  fruittree  holds, 
Lest  the  redcombed  dragon  slumber 
Rolled  together  in  purple  folds. 
Look  to  him,  father,  lest  he  wink,  and  the 

golden  apple  be  stol'n  away, 
For  his  ancient  heart  is  drunk  with  over- 

watchings  night  and  day. 
Round  about  the  hallowed  fruittree  curled — 
Sing  away,  sing  aloud  evermore  in  the  wind, 

without  stop. 
Lest  his  scaled  eyehd  drop, 
For  he  is  older  than  the  world. 
If  he  waken,  we  waken. 
Rapidly  levelling  eager  eyes. 
If  he  sleep,  we  sleep. 
Dropping  the  eyehd  over  the  eyes. 
If  the  golden  apple  be  taken, 
The  world  will  be  overwise. 

6  8i 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Five  links,  a  golden  chain,  are  we, 
Hesper,  the  dragon,  and  sisters  three, 
Bound  about  the  golden  tree. 

Ill 

Father    Hesper,     Father    Hesper,     watch, 

watch,   night   and   day. 
Lest  the  old  wound  of  the  world  be  healM, 
The  glory  unsealed. 
The  golden  apple  stol'n  away, 
And  the  ancient  secret  revealed. 
Look  from  west  to  east  along: 
Father,  old  Himala  weakens,  Caucasus  is 

bold  and  strong. 
Wandering  waters  unto  wandering  waters 

call; 
Let  them  clash  together,  foam  and  fall. 
Out  of  watchings,  out  of  wiles, 
Comes  the  bliss  of  secret  smiles. 
All  things  are  not  told  to  all. 
Half-round  the  mantling  night  is  drawn, 
Purplef ringed  with  even  and  dawn. 
Hesper   hateth   Phosphor,    evening  hateth 

morn. 

82 


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IV 

Every  flower  and  every  fruit  the  redolent 

breath 
Of  this  warm  seawind  ripeneth, 
Arching  the  billow  in  his  sleep; 
But  the  landwind  wandereth, 
Broken  by  the  highland-steep, 
Two  streams  upon  the  violet  deep: 
For    the    western    sun    and    the    western 

star, 
And  the  low  west  wind,  breathing  afar, 
The  end  of  day  and  beginning  of  night 
Make  the  apple  holy  and  bright; 
Holy  and  bright,  round  and  full,  bright  and 

blest, 
Mellowed  in  a  land  of  rest; 
Watch  it  warily  day  and  night; 
All  good  things  are  in  the  west. 
Till  midnoon  the  cool  east  light 
Is  shut  out  by  the  tall  hillbrow; 
But  when  the  fullfaced  sunset  yellowly 
Stays  on  the  flowering  arch  of  the  bough. 
The  luscious  fruitage  clustereth  mellowly, 
83 


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Goldenkernelled,  goldencored, 
Sunset-ripened  above  on  the  tree. 
The  world  is  wasted  with  fire  and  sword, 
But  the  apple  of  gold  hangs  over  the  sea. 
Five  links,  a  golden  chain,  are  we, 
Hesper,  the  dragon,  and  sisters  three, 

Daughters  three. 

Bound  about 

All  round  about 
The  gnarled  bole  of  the  charmed  tree. 
The  golden   apple,   the   golden   apphs,   the 

hallowed  fruit. 
Guard  it  well,  guard  it  warily, 

Watch  it  warily, 

Singing  airily, 
Standing  about  the  charmed  root. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XXXIII 
Rosalind 

[When  the  poem  "Rosalind"  was  reprinted  in  the  1884 
edition  of  the  Poems — the  first  single  -  volume  edition — the 
following  lines  were  suppressed.] 

My  Rosalind,  my  Rosalind, 
Bold,  subtle,  careless  Rosalind, 
Is  one  of  those  who  know  no  strife 
Of  inward  woe  or  outward  fear; 
To  v/hom  the  slope  and  stream  of  life, 
The  life  before,  the  life  behind. 
In  the  ear,  from  far  and  near, 
Chimeth  musically  clear. 
My  falconhearted  Rosalind, 
Fullsailed  before  a  vigorous  wind, 
Is  one  of  those  who  cannot  weep 
For  others'  woes,  but  overleap 
All  the  petty  shocks  and  fears 
That  trouble  life  in  early  years. 
With  a  flash  of  frolic  scorn 
8s 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

And  keen  delight,  that  never  falls 
Away  from  freshness,  self  upborne 
With  such  gladness,  as,  whenever 
The  freshflushing  springtime  calls 
To  the  flooding  waters  cool 
Young  fishes,  on  an  April  morn, 
Up  and  down  a  rapid  river, 
Leap  the  little  waterfalls 
That  sing  into  the  pebbled  pool. 
My  happy  falcon,  Rosalind; 
Hath  daring  fancies  of  her  own. 
Fresh  as  the  dawn  before  the  day. 
Fresh  as  the  early  seasmell  blown 
Through  vineyards  from  an  inland  bay. 
My  Rosalind,  my  Rosalind, 
Because  no  shadow  on  you  falls 
Think  you  hearts  are  tennis  balls 
To  play  with,  wanton  Rosalind? 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 


XXXIV 
Song 

Who  can  say- 
Why  To-day 

To-morrow  will  be  yesterday? 
Who  can  tell 
Why  to  smell 

The  violet,  recalls  the  dewy  prime 

Of  youth  and  buried  time? 

The  cause  is  nowhere  found  in  rhyme. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XXXV 
Sonnet 

[Written  on  hearing  of  the  outbreak  of  the  Polish  Insurrection.] 

Blow  ye  the  trumpet,  gather  from  afar 
The  hosts  to  battle:  be  not  bought  and 

sold. 
Arise,  brave   Poles,   the  boldest    of   the 
bold; 
Break    through    your    iron    shackles — fling 

them  far. 
O  for  those  days  of  Piast,  ere  the  Czar 
Grew  to  this  strength  among  his  deserts 

cold; 
Which   even   to   Moscow's   cupolas   were 
rolled 
The  growing  murmurs  of  the  Polish  war! 
Now  must  your  noble  anger  blaze  out 
more 

88 


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Than  when  from  Sobieski,  clan  by  clan 
The  Moslem  myriads  fell,  and  fled  before — 

Than   when   Zamoysky   smote   the   Tartar 
Khan, 
Than  earlier,  when  on  the  Baltic  shore 

Boleslas  drove  the  Pomeranian. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XXXVI 
O    Darling    Room 


O  DARLING  room,  my  heart's  deliglit, 
Dear  room,  the  apple  of  my  sight,* 
With  thy  two  couches  soft  and  white 
There  is  no  room  so  exquisite, 
No  Httle  room  so  warm  and  bright, 
Wherein  to  read,  wherein  to  write. 

II 

For  I  the  Nonnenwerth  have  seen 
And  oberwinter's  vineyards  green, 
Musical  Lurlei;  and  between 


*  As  soon  as  this  poem  was  published,  I  altered  the  second 
line  to  "All  books  and  pictures  ranged  aright";  yet  "Dear 
room,  the  apple  of  my  sight"  (which  was  much  abused)  is 
not  as  bad  as  "  Do  go,  dear  rain,  do  go  away."  [Note  initialled 
"A.  T. "  in  Life,  vol.  i.,  p.  89.] 

90 


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The  hills  to  Bingen  have  I  been, 
Bingen  in  Dramstadt,  where  the  Rhene 
Curves  towards  Mentz,  a  woody  scene 


III 

Yet  never  did  there  meet  my  sight 

In  any  town,  to  left  or  right, 

A  little  room  so  exquisite, 

With  two  such  couches  soft  and  white; 

Not  any  room  so  warm  and  bright, 

Wherein  to  read,  wherein  to  write. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XXXVII 
To    Christopher    North 

You  did  late  review  my  lays, 

Crusty  Christopher; 
You  did  mingle  blame  and  praise, 

Rusty  Christopher- 
When  I  learnt  from  whom  it  came, 
I  forgave  you  all  the  blame, 

Musty  Christopher; 
I  could  not  forgive  the  praise. 

Fusty  Christopher. 


Tennyson ^s    Suppressed   Poems 


XXXVIII 
The    Lotos-Eaters 

[These  forty  lines  formed  the  conclusion  of  the  original  (1833) 
version  of  the  poem.  When  reprinted  in  1842,  these  lines 
were  suppressed.] 

We  have  had  enough  of  motion, 

Weariness  and  wild  alarm, 

Tossing  on  the  tossing  ocean, 

Where  the  tusked  seahorse  walloweth 

In  a  stripe  of  grassgreen  calm, 

At  noontide  beneath  the  lea; 

And  the  monstrous  narwhale  swalloweth 

His  foamfountains  in  the  sea. 

Long  enough  the  winedark  wave  our  weary- 
bark  did  carry. 

This  is  lovelier  and  sweeter. 

Men  of  Ithaca,  this  is  meeter. 

In  the  hollow  rosy  vale  to  tarry. 

Like  a  dreamy  Lotos-eater,  a  delirious  Lotos- 
eater! 

93 


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We  will  eat  the  Lotos,  sweet 

As  the  yellow  honeycomb, 

In  the  valley  some,  and  some 

On  the  ancient  heights  divine; 

And  no  more  roam. 

On  the  loud  hoar  foam. 

To  the  melancholy  home 

At  the  limit  of  the  brine. 

The  little  isle  of  Ithaca,  beneath  the  day's 

decline. 
We'll  lift  no  more  the  shattered  oar. 
No  more  unfurl  the  straining  sail; 
With  the  blissful  Lotos-eaters  pale 
We  will  abide  in  the  golden  vale 
Of  the  Lotos-land,  till  the  Lotos  fail; 
We  will  not  wander  more. 
Hark!  how  sweet  the  horned  ewes  bleat 
On  the  solitary  steeps. 
And  the  merry  lizard  leaps. 
And  the  foam  white  waters  pour; 
And  the  dark  pine  weeps. 
And  the  Hthe  vine  creeps. 
And  the  heavy  melon  sleeps 
On  the  level  of  the  shore 
94 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Oh!  islanders  of  Ithaca,  we  will  not  wander 

more, 
Surely,  surely  slumber  is  more  sweet  than 

toil,  the  shore 
Than  labor  in  the  ocean,  and  rowing  with 

the  oar. 
Oh!  islanders  of  Ithaca,  we  will  return  no 

more. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XXXIX 
A    Dream    of   Fair    Women 

[In  the  1833  volume  the  poem  opened  with  the  following 
four  verses,  suppressed  after  1842.  These  FitzGerald  con- 
sidered made  "a  perfect  poem  by  themselves."  These 
stanzas  are  published  in  Life,  vol.  i.,  p.  121.] 

As  when  a  man,  that  sails  in  a  balloon, 
Downlooking  sees  the  solid  shining  ground 

Stream  from  beneath  him  in  the  broad  blue 
noon 
Tilth,  hamlet,  mead  and  mound: 

And  takes  his  flags  and  waves  them  to  the 
mob. 

That  shout  below,  all  faces  turned  to  where 
Glows  rubylike  the  far  up  crimson  globe 

Filled  with  a  finer  air: 

So  lifted  high,  the  poet  at  his  will 

Lets  the  great  world  flit  from  him,  seeing 
all, 

96 


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Higher  thro'  secret  splendors  mounting  still 
Self  poised,  nor  fears  to  faeer 

Hearing  apart  the  echoes  of  his  fame. 
While     I     spoke    thus,     the     seedsman, 
Memory, 
Sowed  my  deepfurrowed  thought  with  many 
a  name, 
Whose  glory  will  not  die. 


a 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XL 
The    Palace    of  Art 


[First  published  in  the  1833  volume,  this  poem  was  con- 
siderably altered  when  reprinted  in  1842,  so  much  so  as  almost 
to  make  of  it  a  new  poem.  New  stanzas  were  added  and 
others  omitted,  and  many  verbal  alterations  were  introduced 
into  the  remaining  stanzas.  Following  are  the  more  important 
stanzas  cancelled  after  1833.] 


XXIII 

So  that  my  soul  beholding  in  her  pride 
All  these,  from  room  to  room  did  pass; 

And  all  things  that  she  saw,  she  multiplied, 
A  manyfaced  glass; 

XXIV 

And,  being  both  the  sower  and  the  seed, 

Remaining  in  herself  became 
All  that  she  saw,  Madonna,  Ganymede, 

Or  the  Asiatic  dame 

98 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

XXV 

Still    changing,    as    a    lighthouse    in    the 
night 

Changeth  athwart  the  gleaming  main, 
From  red  to  yellow,  yellow  to  pale  white, 

Then  back  to  red  again. 

XXVI 

**From  change  to  change  four  times  within 
the  womb 
The  brain  is  moulded,"  she  began, 
**So  through   all   phases   of  all  thought   I 
come 
Into  the  perfect  man. 

XXVII 

**A11  nature  widens  upward:  evermore 
The  simpler  essence  lower  lies. 

More    complex    is    more    perfect,    owning 
more 
Discourse,  more  widely  wise. 

99 


Tennyson ^s    Suppressed   Poems 

XXVIII 

**I   take   possession    of   men's   minds   and 
deeds. 

I  live  in  all  things  great  and  small. 
I  dwell  apart,  holding  no  forms  of  creeds, 

But  contemplating  all," 


XXIX 

Four  ample  courts  there  were,  East,  West, 
South,  North, 

In  each  a  squared  lawn  wherefrom 
A  golden-gorged  dragon  spouted  forth 

The  fountain's  diamond  foam. 


XXX 

All  round  the  cool  green  courts  there  ran  a 
row 
Of  cloisters,  branched  like  mighty  woods, 
Echoing  all  night  to  that  sonorous  flow 
Of  spouted  fountain-floods. 
190 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

XXXI 

From  those  four  jets  four  currents  in  one 
swell 
Over  the  black  rock  streamed  below 
In    steamy    folds,    that,    floating    as   they 
fell, 
Lit  up  a  torrentbow; 


XXXII 

And  round  the  roofs  ran  gilded  galleries 
That  gave  large  view  to  distant  lands. 

Tall  towns  and  mounds,  and  close  beneath 
the  skies 
Long  lines  of  amber  sands. 


XXXIII 

Huge  incense-urns  along  the  balustrade, 

Hollowed  of  solid  amethyst, 
Each  with  a  different  odor  fuming,  made 

The  air  a  silver  mist. 

lOI 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

XXXIV 

Far-off  'twas  wonderful  to  look  upon 
Those    sumptuous    towers    between    the 
gleam 

Of  that  great  foambow  trembling  in  the  sun, 
And  the  argent  incense-steam; 

XXXV 

And  round  the  terraces  and  round  the  walls, 
While  day  sank  lower  or  rose  higher, 

To  see  those  rails  with  all  their  knobs  and 
balls, 
Burn  like  a  fringe  of  fire. 

XXXVI 

Likewise  the  deepset  windows,  stained  and 
traced, 

Burned,  like  slowflaming  crimson  fires. 
From  shadowed  grots  of  arches  interlaced, 

And  topped  with  frostlike  spires. 


I02 


Tennyson^s    Suppressed   Poems 

XXXIX 

And  underneath  freshcarved  in  cedarwood, 
Somewhat  aHke  in  form  and  face, 

The  Genii  of  every  cHmate  stood, 
AH  brothers  of  one  race: 


XL 

Angels  who  sway  the  seasons  by  their  art, 
And  mould  all  shapes  in  earth  and  sea; 

And  with    great    effort    build    the    human 
heart 
From  earliest  infancy. 

XLI 

And  in  the  sunpierced  Oriel's  colored  flame 

Immortal  Michael  Angelo 
Looked    down,    bold    Luther,    largebrowed 
Verulam, 

The  king  of  those  who  know.* 

*  II  maefstro  di  color  chi  sanno. — Dante,  Inf.,  iii. 
103 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XLII 

Cervantes,  the  bright  face  of  Calderon, 
Robed  David  touching  holy  strings, 

The  Halicarnassean,  and  alone, 
Alfred  the  flower  of  kings. 

XLIII 

Isaiah  with  fierce  Ezekiel, 

Swarth  Moses  by  the  Coptic  sea, 

Plato.  Petrarca,  Livy,  and  Raphael, 
And  eastern  Confutzee:* 

*[iVo^e  by  Tennyson  in  1833  volume."] 

When  I  first  conceived  the  plan  of  the  Palace  of  Art,  I 
intended  to  have  introduced  both  sculptures  and  painting 
into  it;  but  it  is  the  most  difficult  of  all  things  to  devise  a 
statue  in  verse.  Judge  whether  I  have  succeeded  in  the 
statues  of  Elijah  and  Olympias. 

One  was  the  Tishbite  whom  the  raven  fed, 

As  when  he  stood  on  Carmel  steeps 
With  one  arm  stretched  out  bare,  and  mocked  and  said, 

"Come  cry  aloud — he  sleeps." 

Tall  eager  lean   and   strong,   his  cloak   wind-bome 

Behind,  his  forehead  heavenly  bright 
From  the  clear  marble  pouring  glorious  scorn, 

Lit  as  with  inner  light. 

104 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

LXVIII 

As  some  rich  tropic  mountain,  that  infolds 
All  change,  from  flats  of  scattered  palms 

Sloping   thro'  five   great   zones  of  climate, 
holds 
His  head  in  snows  and  calms — 


XLIX 

Full  of  her  own  delight  and  nothing  else, 
My  vainglorious,  gorgeous  soul 

Sat  throned  between  the  shining  oriels, 
In  pomp  beyond  control; 


One  was  Olympias:  the  floating  snake 

Rolled  round  her  ancles,  round  her  waist, 

Knotted,  and  folded  once  about  her  neck, 
Her  perfect  lips  to  taste. 

Round  by  the  shoulder  moved:   she  seeming  blythe 

Declined  her  head:  on  every  side 
The  dragon's  curves  melted  and  mingled  with 

The  woman's  youthful  pride 
Of  rounded  limbs. 

Or  Venus  in  a  snowy  shell  alone. 

Deep  shadow'd  in  the  glassy  brine 
Moonlike  glowed  double  on  the  blue,  and  shone 

A  naked  shape  divine. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


With  piles  of  flavorous  fruits  in  basket-twine 
Of  gold,  upheaped,  crushing  down 

Muskscented   blooms  —  all   taste  —  grape, 
gourd  or  pine — 
In  bunch,  or  singlegrown: 

LI 

Our  growths,  and  such  as  brooding  Indian 
heats 
Make  out  of  crimson  blossoms  deep, 
Ambrosial   pulps   and  juices,    sweets   from 
sweets 
Sunchanged,  when  seawinds  sleep. 

LII 

With  graceful  chalices  of  curious  wine. 

Wonders  of  art — and  costly  jars. 
And    bossed     salvers.     Ere    young    night 
divine 
Crowned  dying  day  with  stars, 
1 06 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

.    LIII 

Making  sweet  close  of  his  delicious  toils, 
She  lit  white  streams  of  dazzling  gas, 

And  soft  and  fragrant  flames  of   precious 
oils 
In  moons  of  purple  glass 


LIV 

Ranged   on  the   fretted   woodwork  to   the 
ground. 

Thus  her  intense  untold  delight, 
In  deep  or  vivid  color,  smell  and  sound. 

Was  flattered  dav  and  night.* 


*  If  the  Poem  were  not  already  too  long,  I  should  have 
inserted  in  the  text  the  following  stanzas,  expressive  of  the 
joy  wherewith  the  soul  contemplated  the  results  of  astro- 
nomical experiment.  In  the  centre  of  the  four  quadrangles 
rose  an  immense  tower. 

Hither,  when  all  the  deep  unsounded  skies 
Shuddered  with  silent  stars,  she  clomb, 

And  as  with  optic  glasses  her  keen  eyes 
Pierced  thro'  the  mystic  dome, 

107 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


Regions  of  lucid  matter  taking  forms, 

Brushes  of  fire,  hazy  gleams, 
Clusters  and  beds  of  worlds,  and  bee-like  swarms 

Of  suns,  and  starry  streams. 

She  saw  the  snowy  poles  of  moonless  Mars, 
That  marvellous  round  of  milky  light 

Below  Orion,  and  those  double  stars 
Whereof  the  one  more  bright 

Is  circled  by  the  other,  etc. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed    Poems 


XLI 
Cambridge 

[This  poem  is  written  in  pencil  in  the  fly-leaf  of  a  copy  of 
Poems,  1833,  in  the  Dyce  Collection  in  South  Kensington 
Museum.  Reprinted,  with  many  alterations,  in  Life,  vol.  i., 
p.  67.] 

Therefore  your   halls,  your   ancient  col- 
leges, 
Your  portals  statued  with  old  kings  and 
queens. 
Your  bridges  and  your  busted  libraries, 
Wax-lighted    chapels    and    rich    carved 

screens, 
Your  doctors  and  your  proctors  and  your 
deans 
Shall  not   avail   you   when  the   day-beam 
sports 

New-risen  o'er  awakened  Albion — No, 
Nor  yet   your   solemn   organ-pipes   that 
blow 

109 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Melodious   thunders   through   your  vacant 

courts 
At  morn  and  even;  for  your  manner  sorts 
Not  with  this  age,  nor  with  the  thoughts 
that  roll, 
Because  the  words  of  little  children  preach 
Against  you, — ye  that  did  profess  to  teach 
And  have  taught  nothing,  feeding  on  the 
soul. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 


XLII 
The    Germ    of  "Maud" 


[There  was  published  in  1837  in  The  Tribute  (a  collection  of 
unpublished  poems  by  various  authors,  edited  by  Lord 
Northampton)  a  contribution  by  Tennyson  entitled  "  Stanzas," 
consisting  of  xvi  stanzas  of  varying  lengths  (no  lines  in  all). 
In  1855  the  first  xii  stanzas  were  published  in  the  fourth 
section  of  the  second  part  of  "Maud."  Some  verbal  changes 
and  transpositions  of  lines  were  made;  a  new  stanza  (the  pres- 
ent vi)  and  several  new  lines  were  introduced,  and  the  x 
stanza  of  1837  became  the  xiii  of  1855.  But  stanzas  xiii- 
xvi  of  1837  have  never  been  reprinted  in  any  edition  of 
Tennyson's  works,  though  quoted  in  whole  or  part  in  various 
critical  studies  of  the  poet.  Swinburne  refers  to  this  poem 
as  "the  poem  of  deepest  charm  and  fullest  delight  of  pathos 
and  melody  ever  written  even  by  Mr.  Tennyson."  This  poem 
in  The  Tribute  gained  Tennyson  his  first  notice  in  the  Edin- 
burgh Review,  which  had  till  then  ignored  him.] 


XIII 

But  she  tarries  in  her  place 
And  I  paint  the  beauteous  face 
Of  the  maiden,  that  I  lost, 
In  my  inner  eyes  again, 
III 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Lest  my  heart  be  overborne 
By  the  thing  I  hold  in  scorn, 
By  a  dull  mechanic  ghost 

And  a  juggle  of  the  brain. 


XIV 

I  can  shadow  forth  my  bride 

As  I  knew  her  fair  and  kind 

As  I  woo'd  her  for  my  wife; 
She  is  lovely  by  my  side 

In  the  silence  of  my  life — 
'Tis  a  phantom  of  the  mind. 


XV 

'Tis  a  phantom  fair  and  good 
I  can  call  it  to  my  side, 

So  to  guard  my  life  from  ill, 
Tho'  its  ghastly  sister  glide 

And  be  moved  around  me  still 
With  the  moving  of  the  blood 

That  is  moved  not  of  the  will. 
iiz 


Tennyson*s    Suppressed  Poems 

XVI 

Let  it  pass,  the  dreary  brow, 

Let  the  dismal  face  go  by, 
Will  it  lead  me  to  the  grave? 

Then  I  lose  it:  it  will  fly: 
Can  it  overlast  the  nerves? 

Can  it  overlive  the  eye? 
But  the  other,  like  a  star. 
Thro*  the  channel  windeth  far 

Till  it  fade  and  fail  and  die, 
To  its  Archetype  that  waits 
Clad  in  light  by  golden  gates, 
Clad  in  light  the  Spirit  waits 

To  embrace  me  in  the  sky. 

8 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XLIII 
The    Skipping    Rope 

[This  poem,  published  in  the  second  volume  of  "  Poems  by 
Alfred  Tennyson.  In  two  volumes.  London:  Edward  Moxon, 
MDCCCXLii,"  was  reprinted  in  every  edition  until  1851,  when  it 
was  suppressed.] 

Sure  never  yet  was  Antelope 

Could  skip  so  lightly  by. 
Stand  off,  or  else  my  skipping  rope 

Will  hit  you  in  the  eye. 
How  lightly  whirls  the  skipping  rope! 

How  fairy -like  you  fly! 
Go,  get  you  gone,  you  muse  and  mope — 

I  hate  that  silly  sigh. 
Nay,  dearest,  teach  me  how  to  hope, 

Or  tell  me  how  to  die. 
There,  take  it,  take  my  skipping  rope, 

And  hang  yourself  thereby. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XLIV 
The  New  Timon  and  the  Poets 


[From  Punch,  February  28,  1846.  Bulwer  Lytton  published 
in  1845  his  satirical  poem,  "New  Timon:  a  Romance  of  Lon- 
don," in  which  he  bitterly  attacked  Tennyson  for  the  civil-list 
pension  granted  the  previous  year,  particularly  referring  to 
the  poem  "O  Darling  Room  "  in  the  1833  volume.  Tennyson 
replied  in  the  following  vigorous  verses,  which  made  the 
literary  sensation  of  the  year.  Tennyson  afterwards  declared: 
"I  never  sent  my  lines  to  Punch.  John  Forster  did.  They 
were  too  bitter.  I  do  not  think  that  I  should  ever  have  pub- 
lished them." — Life,  vol.  i.,  p.  245.] 


We  know  him,  out  of  Shakespeare's  art, 
And  those  fine  curses  which  he  spoke; 

The  old  Timon,  with  his  noble  heart. 
That,  strongly  loathing,  greatly  broke. 

So  died  the  Old:  here  comes  the  New: 

Regard  him:  a  familiar  face: 
I  thought  we  knew  him:  What,  it's  you 

The     padded     man  —  that     wears    the 
stays — 

Its 


Tennyson's   Suppressed    Poems 

Who  killed  the  girls  and  thrill' d  the  boys 
With  dandy  pathos  when  you  wrote, 

A  Lion,  you,  that  made  a  noise. 
And  shook  a  mane  en  papillotes. 

And  once  you  tried  the  Muses  too: 

You  fail'd,  Sir:  therefore  now  you  turn, 

You  fall  on  those  who  are  to  you 
As  captain  is  to  subaltern. 

But  men  of  long  enduring  hopes, 

And  careless  what  this  hour  may  bring. 

Can  pardon  little  would-be  Popes 

And  Brummels,  when  they  try  to  sting. 

An  artist,  Sir,  should  rest  in  art. 
And  waive  a  little  of  his  claim; 

To  have  the  deep  poetic  heart 
Is  more  than  all  poetic  fame. 

But  you.  Sir,  you  are  hard  to  please; 

You  never  look  but  half  content: 
Nor  like  a  gentleman  at  ease 

With  moral  breadth  of  temperament. 
ii6 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

And  what  with  spites  and  what  with  fears, 

You  cannot  let  a  body  be: 
It's  always  ringing  in  your  ears, 

**They  call  this  man  as  good  as  me.'* 

What  profits  now  to  understand 
The  merits  of  a  spotless  shirt — 

A  dapper  boot — a  little  hand — 
If  half  the  little  soul  is  dirt? 

You  talk  of  tinsel!  why  we  see 

The  old  mark  of  rouge  upon  your  cheeks. 
You  prate  of  nature!  you  are  he 

That  spilt  his  life  about  the  cliques. 

A  Timon  you!  Nay,  nay,  for  shame: 
It  looks  too  arrogant  a  jest — 

The  fierce  old  man — to  take  his  name 
You  bandbox.     Off,  and  let  him  rest. 


Tennyson's   Suppressed   Poems 


XLV 
Mablethorpe 

[Published  in  Manchester  Athenceunt  Album,  1850.  Reprinted 
in  Cope's  Tobacco  Plant,  1875-  Written,  1837.  Republished, 
altered,  in  Life,  vol.  i.,  p.  i6i.] 

How  often,  when  a  child  I  lay  reclined, 
I  took  delight  in  this  locality! 

Here  stood  the  infant  IHon  of  the  mind, 
And  here  the  Grecian  ships  did  seem  to  be. 

And  here  again  I  come  and  only  find 

The  drain-cut  levels  of  the  marshy  lea, — 
Gray  sand  banks  and  pale  sunsets — dreary 
wind, 
Dim  shores,  dense  rains,  and  heavy  cloud- 
ed sea. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XLVI 
Stanzas 


[Published  in  The  Keepsake  for  1851  •'  an  illustrated  annual, 
edited  by  Miss  Power.     London:  David  Bogue.] 


What  time  I  wasted  youthful  hours. 
One  of  the  shining  winged  powers, 
Show'd  me  vast  cliffs  with  crown  of  towers, 

As  towards  the  gracious  light  I  bow'd, 
They  seem'd  high  palaces  and  proud, 
Hid  now  and  then  with  sliding  cloud. 

He  said,  "The  labor  is  not  small; 
Yet  winds  the  pathway  free  to  all: — 
Take  care  thou  dost  not  fear  to  fall!*' 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XLVII 
Britons,    Guard    your    Own 

[Published  in  The  Examiner,  January  31,  1852.  Verses  i 
(considerably  altered),  7,  8,  and  10  are  reprinted  in  Life, 
vol.  i.,  p.  344] 

Rise,  Britons,  rise,  if  manhood  be  not  dead; 
The  world's  last  tempest  darkens  overhead; 

The  Pope  has  bless 'd  him; 

The  Church  caress 'd  him; 
He  triumphs;  maybe,  we  shall  stand  alone: 

Britons,  guard  your  own. 

His  ruthless  host  is  bought  with  plunder'd 

gold, 
By  lying  priest's  the  peasant's  votes  con- 
trolled. 

All  freedom  vanish 'd, 
The  true  men  banish'd, 
He  triumphs;  maybe,  we  shall  stand  alone. 
Britons,  guard  your  own. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Peace-lovers  we — sweet  Peace  we  all  desire — 
Peace-lovers  we — but  who  can  trust  a  liar  ? — 

Peace-lovers,  haters 

Of  shameless  traitors, 
We  hate  not  France,  but  this  man's  heart 
of  stone. 

Britons,  guard  your  own. 

We  hate  not  France,  but  France  has  lost 

her  voice 
This  man  is  France,  the  man  they  call  her 
choice. 

By  tricks  and  spying. 
By  craft  and  lying, 
And  murder  was  her  freedom  overthrown. 
Britons,  guard  your  own. 

*' Vive  TEmpereur"  may  follow  by  and  bye; 
**God  save  the  Queen"  is  here  a  truer  cry. 

God  save  the  Nation, 

The  toleration. 
And  the  free  speech  that  makes  a  Briton 
known. 

Britons,  guard  your  own. 

J2I 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 

Rome's   dearest   daughter   now  is   captive 

France, 
The  Jesuit  laughs,  and  reckoning  on  his  chance, 

Would,  unrelenting. 

Kiss  all  dissenting, 
Till  we  were  left  to  fight  for  truth  alone. 

Britons,  guard  your  own. 

Call  home  your  ships  across  Biscayan  tides, 
To  blow  the  battle  from  their  oaken  sides. 

Why  waste  they  yonder 

Their  idle  thunder? 
Why  stay  they  there  to  guard  a  foreign 
throne  ? 

Seamen,  guard  your  own. 

We  were  the  best  of  marksmen  long  ago. 
We  won  old  battles  with  our  strength,  the 
bow. 

Now  practise,  yeomen, 
Like  those  bowmen, 
Till  your  balls  fly  as  their  true  shafts  have 
flown. 

Yeomen,  guard  your  own. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

His  soldier-ridden  Highness  might  incline 
To  take  Sardinia,  Belgium,  or  the  Rhine: 

Shall  we  stand  idle, 

Nor  seek  to  bridle 
His  vile  aggressions,  till  we  stand  alone? 

Make  their  cause  your  own. 

Should   he   land   here,    and   for   one   hour 

prevail. 
There  must  no  man  go  back  to  bear  the 
tale  : 

No  man  to  bear  it — 
Swear  it!     We  swear  it! 
Although  we  fought  the  banded  world  alone, 
We  swear  to  guard  our  own. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


XLVIII 
Hands    all    Round 

[Published  in  Tlte  Examiner,  February  9,  1852.  Reprinted, 
slightly  altered,  in  Life,  vol.  i.,  p.  345.  Included,  almost 
entirely  rewritten,  in  Collected  Works.] 

First  drink  a  health,  this  solemn  night, 

A  health  to  England,  every  guest; 
That  man's  the  best  cosmopolite 

Who  loves  his  native  country  best. 
May  Freedom's  oak  for  ever  live 

With  stronger  life  from  day  to  day; 
That  man's  the  best  Conservative 

Who  lops  the  mouldered  branch  away. 

Hands  all  round! 
God  the  tyrant's  hope  confoimd! 
To  this  great  cause  of  Freedom  drink,  my 
friends, 
And  the  great  name  of  England  round 
and  round. 

124 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

A  health  to  Europe's  honest  men! 

Heaven   guard   them   from   her   tyrants' 
jails! 
From  wronged  Poerio's  noisome  den, 

From  iron  limbs  and  tortured  nails! 
We  curse  the  crimes  of  Southern  kings, 

The  Russian  whips  and  Austrian  rods — 
We  likewise  have  our  evil  things: 

Too  much  we  make  our  Ledgers,  Gods. 

Yet  hands  all  round! 
God  the  tyrant's  cause  confound! 
To   Europe's  better  health   we   drink,   my 
friends, 
And  the  great  name  of  England  round 
and  round. 

What  health  to  France,  if  France  be  she 
Whom  martial  progress  only  charms? 

Yet  tell  her — better  to  be  free 

Than  vanquish  all  the  world  in  arms. 

Her  frantic  city's  flashing  heats 

But  fire,  to  blast  the  hopes  of  men. 

Why  change  the  titles  of  your  streets? 
125 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 

You  fools,  you'll  want  them  all  again. 

Hands  all  round! 
God  the  tyrant's  cause  confound! 
To  France,  the  wiser  France,  we  drink,  my 
friends, 
And  the  great  name  of  England  round 
and  round. 

Gigantic  daughter  of  the  West, 

We  drink  to  thee  across  the  flood, 
We  know  thee  most,  we  love  thee  best, 

For  art  thou  not  of  British  blood? 
Should  war's  mad  blast  again  be  blown. 

Permit  not  thou  the  tyrant  powers 
To  fight  thy  mother  here  alone. 

But  let  thy  broadsides  roar  with  ours. 
Hands  all  round! 

God  the  tyrant's  cause  confound! 
To  our  great  kinsmen  of  the  West,  my  friends. 

And  the  great  name  of  England  round 
and  round. 

O  rise,  our  strong  Atlantic  sons. 

When  war  against  our  freedom  springs! 
126 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

O  speak  to  Europe  through  your  guns! 

They  can  be  understood  by  kings. 
You  must  not  mix  our  Queen  with  those 

That  wish  to  keep  their  people  fools; 
Our  freedom's  foemen  are  her  foes, 
She  comprehends  the  race  she  rules. 

Hands  all  round! 
God  the  tyrant's  cause  confound! 
To   ovLv   dear   kinsmen    of   the   West,    my 
friends. 
And  the  great  name  of  England  round 
and  round. 


Tennyson^s   Suppressed   Poems 


XLIX 

Suggested   by    Reading   an 
Article    in    a    Newspaper 

[Piiblished  in  The  Examiner,  February  14,  1852.  This  poem 
has  never  been  acknowledged,  nor  has  it  hitherto  been  iden- 
tified as  by  Tennyson.  In  Life,  vol.  i.,  p.  346,  following  the 
reprint  of  "Britons,  Guard  your  Own"  and  "Hands  all 
Round"  (contributed  by  Tennyson  above  the  signature  of 
Merlin),  we  are  told  that  "Other  contributions  appeared 
in  The  Examiner,  but  my  father  did  not  think  them  good 
enough  to  be  reprinted."  With  this  plain  hint,  the  following 
poem  may  be  definitely  accepted  as  from  Tennyson's  pen. J 
To  the  Editor  of  The  Examiner. 

Sir, — I  have  read  with  much  interest  the  poems  of  Merlin. 
The  enclosed  is  longer  than  either  of  those,  and  certainly  not 
so  good:  yet  as  I  flatter  myself  that  it  has  a  smack  of  Merlin's 
style  in  it,  and  as  I  feel  that  it  expresses  forcibly  enough 
some  of  the  feelings  of  our  time,  perhaps  you  may  be  induced 
to  admit  it.  Talibrsen. 

How  much  I  love  this  writer's  manly  style! 
By  such  men  led,  our  press  had  ever  been 
The  public  conscience  of  our  noble  ivsle, 
Severe  and  quick  to  feel  a  civic  sin, 
To  raise  the  people  and  chastise  the  times 
With  such  a  heat  as  lives  in  great  creative 
rhymes. 

128 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

0  you,  the  Press!  what  good  from  you  might 

spring ! 
What  power  is  yours  to  blast  a  cause  or 
bless ! 

1  fear  for  you,  as  for  some  youthful  king, 
Lest  you  go  wrong  from  power  in  excess. 

Take  heed  of  your  wide  privileges!  we. 
The   thinking  men   of   England,    loathe   a 
tyranny. 

A  freeman  is,  I  doubt  not,  freest  here; 
The   single   voice   may   speak   his   mind 
aloud ; 
An  honest  isolation  need  not  fear 

The  Court,  the  Church,  the  ParUament 
the  crowd. 
No,  nor  the  Press!  and  look  you  well  to 

that — 
We  must  not  dread  in  you  the  nameless 
autocrat. 

And  you,  dark  Senate  of  the  public  pen, 
You  may  not,  hke  yon  tyrant,  deal  in 
spies. 

9  129 


Tennyson ^s    Suppressed   Poems 

Yours  are  the  public  acts  of  public  men, 
But  yours  are  not  their  household,  pri- 
vacies. 

I  grant  you  one  of  the  great  Powers  on 
earth, 

But  be  not  you  the  blatant  traitors  of  the 
hearth. 

You  hide  the  hand  that   writes:   it  must 

be  so. 
For  better  so  you  fight  for  public  ends; 
But  some  you  strike  can  scarce  return  the 

blow; 
You    should   be    all   the    nobler,    O    my 

friends. 
Be  noble,  you!  nor  work  with  faction's  tools 
To   charm   a   lower  sphere   of  fulminating 

fools. 

But  knowing  all  your  power  to  heat  or  cool, 
To  soothe  a  civic  wound  or  keep  it  raw, 

Be  loyal,  if  you  wish  for  wholesome  rule: 
Our  ancient  boast  is  this — we  reverence 
law. 

130 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 

We  still  were  loyal  in  our  wildest  fights, 
Or  loyally  disloyal  battled  for  our  rights. 

0  Grief  and  Shame  if  while  I  preach  of  laws 
Whereby    to    guard    our    Freedom   from 

offence — 

And   trust    an   ancient   manhood   and   the 
cause 
Of  England  and  her  health  of  common- 
sense — 

There  hang  within  the  heavens  a  dark  dis- 
grace, 

Some  vast  Assyrian  doom  to  burst  upon 
our  race. 

1  feel  the  thousand  cankers  of  our  State, 
I  fain  would    shake   their   triple  -  folded 

ease, 
The  hogs  who  can  believe  in  nothing  great, 
Sneering  bedridden  in  the  down  of  Peace 
Over  their  scrips  and  shares,  their  meats 

and  wine, 
With  stony  smirks  at  all  things  human  and 

divine ! 

131 


Tennyson *s    Suppressed   Poems 

I  honor  much,  I  say,  this  man's  appeal. 

We  drag  so  deep  in  our  commercial  mire, 
We  move  so  far  from  greatness,  that  I  feel 

Exception  to  be  character' d  in  fire. 
Who  looks  for  Godlike  greatness  here  shall 

see 
The  British  Goddess,  sleek  Respectability. 

Alas  for  her  and  all  her  small  delights! 
She   feels   not   how  the   social   frame   is 
rack'd. 
She  loves  a  little  scandal  which  excites; 

A  little  feeling  is  a  want  of  tact. 
For  her  there  lie  in  wait  millions  of  foes. 
And  yet  the  *'not  too  much"  is  all  the  rule 
she  knows. 

Poor  soul!  behold  her:  what  decorous  calm! 
She,  with  her  week-day  worldliness  suf- 
ficed. 
Stands  in  her  pew  and  hums  her  decent 
psalm 
With   decent   dippings   at   the   name   of 
Christ! 

13^ 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

And  she  has  mov'd  in  that  smooth  way  so 

long, 
She  hardly  can  believe  that  she  shall  suffer 

wrong. 

Alas,  our  Church!  alas,  her  growing  ills. 

And  those  who  tolerate  not  her  tolerance, 

But  needs  must  sell  the  burthen  of  their 

wills 

To  that  half -pagan  harlot  kept  by  France! 

Free  subjects  of  the  kindliest  of  all  thrones, 

Headlong  they  plunge  their  doubts  among 

old  rags  and  bones. 

Alas,  Church  writers,  altercating  tribes — 
The  vessel  and  your  Church  may  sink  in 
storms. 
Christ  cried:     Woe,  woe,  to  Pharisees  and 
Scribes ! 
Like  them,  you  bicker  less  for  truth  than 
forms. 
I  sorrow  when  I  read  the  things  you  write, 
What  unheroic  pertness!  what  un-Christian 
spite ! 

133 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Alas,  our  youth,  so  clever  yet  so  small, 
Thin  dilettanti  deep  in  nature's  plan, 

Who  make  the  emphatic  One,  by  whom  is 
all, 
An  essence  less  concentred  than  a  man! 

Better  wild  Mahmoud's  war-cry  once  again! 

0  fools,  we  want  a  manlike  God  and  God- 

like men! 

Go,  frightful  omens.     Yet  once  more  I  turn 
To  you  that   mould   men's  thoughts;   I 
call  on  you 

To  make  opinion  warlike,  lest  we  learn 
A  sharper  lesson  than  we  ever  knew 

1  hear  a  thunder  though  the  skies  are  fair, 
But  shrill  you,  loud  and  long,  the  warning- 
note:  Prepare! 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


1865-1866 

[Published  in  Good  Words  Magazine  for  March,  1868.  This 
little  poem  has  never  been  reprinted,  nor  is  any  reference 
made  to  it  in  the  Life,  where  many  much  more  worthless 
poems  are  printed.  It  is,  however,  quite  genuine,  as  Tenny- 
son's name  was  appended  to  it  in  the  magazine.] 

I  STOOD  on  a  tower  in  the  wet, 

And  new  year  and  old  year  met, 

And  winds  were  roaring  and  blowing; 

And  I  said  "O  years,  that  meet  in  tears. 

Have  ye  aught  that  is  worth  the  Knowing? 

Science  enough  and  exploring. 

Wanderers  coming  and  going. 

Matter  enough  for  deploring, 

But  aught  that  is  worth  the  Knowing?" 

Seas  at  my  feet  were  flowing. 

Waves  on  the  shingle  pouring, 

Old  year  roaring  and  blowing, 

And  new  year  blowing  and  roaring. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


LI 
Alcaics 

[Published  in  the  Marlborough  College  magazine,  The  Marl- 
burian,  of  September  20, 1871.  One  of  Tennyson's  experiments 
in  quantity.  The  last  two  lines  are  quoted  in  the  Life,  vol. 
ii.,  p.  12,  as  the  "comic  end  of  an  Alcaic  in  quantity."] 

Up  sprang  the  dawn  unspeakably  radiant, 
Sending  from  all  that  luminous  orient 
Far  splendor:  and  sweet  larks  ascending, 
Hailed  with  a  glorious  hymn  the  sunrise. 

Fortune  was  all-kind,  for  through  the  lovely 

vale, 
Forth  flamed  the  sun  o*er  silvery  foliage. 

Thine  early  rising  well  repaid  thee 

Munificently  rewarded  artist. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


LII 

Sapphics 


[Printed  in  Professor  Jebb's  Primer  of  Greek  Literature,  Mac- 
millan  &  Co.,  1877,  p.  60.  One  of  Tennyson's  quantitative 
experiments.  "My  father  confessed  that  he  believed  he 
knew  the  quantity  of  every  v/ord  in  the  English  language 
except,  perhaps,  'scissors.'  We  asked  him  to  make  a  Sapphic 
stanza  in  quantity,  with  the  Greek  cadence.  He  gave  us 
this"  (lines  quoted.  Life,  vol.  ii.,  p.  231)]  : 


Faded  every  violet,  all  the  roses; 
Gone  the  glorious  promise,  and  the  victim 
Broken  in  this  anger  of  Aphrodite 
Yields  to  the  victor! 


Tennyson's    Suppressed    Poems 


LIII 
The    Rosebud 

[The  following  fragment  was  published  in  "Ros  Rosarum  ex 
Horto  Poetarum,  Dew  of  the  ever-living  Rose,  gathered  from 
the  Poets'  Gardens  of  many  Lands  by  E.  V.  B[oyle]."  London, 
Elliot  Stock,  1885,  p.  230.  Miss  Boyle  was  "the  charming 
and  gifted  lady  who  had  illustrated  his  'May  Queen,'  and 
whose  drawings  of  children  he  admired"  (Life,  vol.  ii.,  p.  311).] 

The  night  with  sudden  odor  reel'd, 
The  southern  stars  a  music  peal'd, 
Warm  beams  across  the  meadow  stole; 
For  Love  flew  over  grove  and  field, 
Said  ''Open,  Rosebud,  open,  yield 
Thy  fragrant  soul.'* 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


LIV 

[The  following  six  lines  were  recently  discovered  written  in 
Tennyson's  autograph  and  signed  by  him,  on  the  fly-leaf  of  a 
volume  illustrated  by  Bewick,  in  the  library  of  the  late  Lord 
Ravens  worth.] 


A  GATE  and  a  field  half  ploughed, 
A  solitary  cow, 
A  child  with  a  broken  slate, 
And  a  titmarsh  in  the  bough, — 
But  where  alack  is  Bewick 
To  tell  the  meaning  now? 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


LV 

[It  was  originally  intended  by  Tennyson  that  this  poem 
should  form  part  of  his  1833  volume.  It  was  put  in  type, 
and  according  to  custom  copies  were  distributed  among  his 
friends,  when  on  the  eve  of  publication  he  decided  to  omit  it. 
Again  in  1869  it  was  sent  to  press  with  a  new  third  part  added, 
and  was  again  withdrawn,  the  third  part  only — "The  Golden 
Supper,"  founded  on  a  story  in  Boccaccio's  Decameron — 
being  published  in  the  volume  The  Holy  Grail.  In  1866,  1870, 
and  in  1875  attempts  had  been  made  by  the  late  Mr.  Heme 
Shepherd  to  publish  editions  of  "The  Lover's  Tale,"  reprinted 
from  stray  copies  in  existence  of  the  1833  printing.  Each 
of  these  attempts  Tennyson  repressed,  and  at  last,  in  1897,  the 
complete  poem,  as  now  included  in  the  Collected  Works,  was 
issued  with  an  apologetic  reference  to  the  necessity  of  re- 
printing the  poem  to  prevent  its  circulation  in  an  authorized 
form.  But  the  1879  issue  is  considerably  altered  from  the 
original  issue  of  1833,  as  written  by  Tennyson  in  his  nineteenth 
year.  Since  only  as  a  product  of  Tennyson's  youth  does  the 
poem  merit  attention,  it  has  seemed  good  to  reprint  it  here 
as  originally  written.  For  a  boy  of  nineteen  it  is  wonderful: 
for  a  man  of  seventy — as  Tennyson  was  in  1879 — it  is  little 
more  than  twaddle.  Better  for  his  reputation  had  he  left 
it  as  written  in  1828.] 


The  Lover's  Tale.    A  Fragment 

The  Poem  of  the  Lover's  Tale  (the  lover  is  sup- 
pose4  to  be  himself  a  poet)  was  written  in  my 
nineteenth  year,  and  consequently  contains  nearly 
as  many  fanlts  as  words.  That  I  deemed  it  not 
wholly  unoriginal  is  my  only  apology  for  its  pub- 

140 


Tennyson*s    Suppressed  Poems 

lication  —  an  apology,  lame,  and  poor,  and  some- 
what impertinent  to  boot;  so  that  if  its  infirmities 
meet  with  more  laughter  than  charity  in  the 
world,  I  shall  not  raise  my  voice  in  its  defence. 
I  am  aware  how  deficient  the  Poem  is  in  point  of 
Art,  and  it  is  not  without  considerable  misgivings 
that  I  have  ventured  to  publish  even  this  frag- 
ment of  it.  "Enough,"  says  the  old  proverb  "is 
as  good  as  a  feast.** 


Here  far  away,  seen  from  the  topmost  cliff, 
Filling  with  purple  gloom  the  vacancies 
Between  the  tufted  hills,  the  sloping  seas 
Hung  in  mid-heaven,   and  half-way  down 

rare  sails, 
White  as  white  clouds,  floated  from  sky  to 

sky. 
Oh!  pleasant  breast  of  waters,  quiet  bay., 
Like  to  a  quiet  mind  in  the  loud  world, 
Where  the  chafed  breakers  of  the  outer  sea 
Sunk  powerless,  even  as  anger  falls  aside, 
And  withers  on  the  breast  of  peaceful  love, 
Thou  didst  receive  that  belt  of  pines,  that 

fledged 

141 


Tennyson's   Suppressed    Poems 

The    hills    that    watch 'd    thee,    as    Love 

watcheth  Love, — 
In  thine  own  essence,  and  delight  thyself 
To  make  it  wholly  thine  on  sunny  days. 
Keep   thou   thy   name   of   "Lover's   bay." 

See,  sirs. 
Even  now  the  Goddess  of  the  Past,  that 

takes 
The  heart,  and  sometimes  touch eth  but  one 

string 
That  quivers,  and  is  silent,  and  sometimes 
Sweeps    suddenly    all    its    half  -  moulder'd 

chords 
To  an  old  melody,  begins  to  play 

On  those  first-moved  fibres  of  the  brain. 

I  come,  Great  Mistress  of  the  ear  and  eye: 
Oh!  lead  me  tenderly,  for  fear  the  mind 
Rain  thro'  my  sight,  and  strangling  sorrow 

weigh 
Mine  utterance  with  lameness.     Tho'  long 

years 
Have  hollow'd  out  a  valley  and  a  gulf 
Betwixt  the  native  land  of  Love  and  me, 
Breathe  but  a  little  on  me,  and  the  ^ 

142  f 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Will  draw  me  to  the  rising  of  the  sun, 
The  lucid  chambers  of  the  morning-star, 
And  East  of  Life. 

Permit  me,  friend,  I  prithee, 
To  pass  my  hand  across  my  brows,   and 

muse 
On  those   dear  hills,   that  nevermore  will 

meet 
The  sight  that  throbs  and  aches  beneath 

my  touch, 
As  tho'  there  beat  a  heart  in  either  eye; 
For  when  the  outer  lights  are  darken'd  thus, 
The  memory's-  vision  hath  a  keener  edge. 
It  grows  upon  me  now — the  semicircle 
Of  dark-blue  waters,  and  the  narrow  fringe 
Of  curving  beach — its  wreaths  of  dripping 

green — 
Its  pale  pink  shells — the  summer-house  aloft 
That   open'd   on  the   pines  with   doors  of 

glass, 
A  mountain-nest  —  the  pleasure-boat  that 

rock'd 
Light-green  with  its  own  shadow,  keel  to 

keel, 

143 


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Upon  the  crispings  of  the  dappled  wave, 
That  blanched  upon  its  side. 

O  Love,  O  Hope, 
They   come,  they   crowd  upon    me   all   at 

once — 
Moved  from  the  cloud  of  unforgotten  things, 
That  sometimes  on  the  horizon  of  the  mind 
Lies    folded  —  often    sweeps    athwart    in 

storm — 
They  flash  across  the  darkness  of  my  brain. 
The    many    pleasant    days,    the    moonlit 

nights. 
The  dewy  dawnings  and  the  amber  eves. 
When  thou  and  I,  Camilla,  thou  and  I, 
Were  borne  about  the  bay,  or  safely  moor'd 
Beneath  some  low-brow'd  cavern,  where  the 

wave 
Plash'd,   sapping  its  worn  ribs  (the  while 

without. 
And  close  above  us,  sang  the  wind-tost  pine, 
And  shook  its  earthy  socket,  for  we  heard. 
In  rising  and  in  falling  with  the  tide. 
Close  by  our  ears,  the  huge  roots  strain  and 

creak) 

:C44 


Tennyson^s    Suppressed   Poems 

Eye  feeding  upon  eye  with  deep  intent; 
And  mine,  with  love  too  high  to  be  ex- 

press'd. 
Arrested  in  its  sphere,  and  ceasing  from 
All  contemplation  of  all  forms,  did  pause 
To  worship  mine  own  image,  laved  in  light, 
The  centre  of  the  splendors,  all  unworthy 
Of  such  a  shrine — mine  image  in  her  eyes, 
By  diminution  made  most  glorious, 
Moved  with  their  motions,   as  those  eyes 

were  moved 
With   motions    of   the   soul,   as   my  heart 

beat 
Time  to  the  melody  of  hers.     Her  face 
Was  starry-fair,  not  pale,  tenderly  fiush'd 
As  'twere  with  dawn.     She  was  dark-haired, 

dark-eyed : 
Oh,  such  dark  eyes!  a  single  glance  of  them 
Will  govern  a  whole  life  from  birth  to  death. 
Careless  of  all  things  else,  led  on  with  light 
In  trances  and  in  visions:  look  at  them, 
You  lose  yourself  in  utter  ignorance; 
You  cannot  find  their  depth;  for  they  go 

back, 

'       145 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

And  farther  back,  and  still  withdraw  them- 
selves 
Quite  into  the  deep  soul,  that  evermore, 
Fresh  springing  from  her  fountains  in  the 

brain, 
Still  pouring  thro',  floods  with  redundant 

light 
Her  narrow  portals. 

Trust  me,  long  ago 
I  should  have  died,  if  it  were  possible 
To  die  in  gazing  on  that  perfectness 
Which  I  do  bear  within  me:  I  had  died 
But    from    my    farthest    lapse,    my    latest 

ebb. 
Thine   image,    like   a   charm   of  light   and 

strength 
Upon  the  waters,  push'd  me  back  again 
On  these  deserted  sands  of  barren  life. 
Tho'  from  the  deep  vault,  where  the  heart 

of  hope 
Fell  into  dust,  and  crumbled  in  the  dark — 
Forgetting  how  to  render  beautiful 
Her  countenance  with   quick   and  health- 
ful blood — 

146 


Tennyson  *s    Suppressed  Poems 

Thou  didst  not  sway  me  upward,  could  I 

perish 
With  such  a  costly  casket  in  the  grasp 
Of  memory?     He,  that  saith  it,  hath  o'er- 

stepp'd 
The  slippery  footing  of  his  narrow  wit. 
And  fall'n  away  from  judgment.     Thou  art 

light. 
To  which  my  spirit  leaneth  all  her  flowers, 
And  length  of  days,  and  immortality 
Of  thought,  and  freshness  ever  self-renew'd. 

For  Time  and  Grief  abode  too  long  with 

Life, 
And  like  all  other  friends  i'  the  world,  at 

last 
They  grew  aweary  of  her  fellowship: 
So  Time  and  Grief  did  beckon  unto  Death, 
And  Death  drew  nigh  and  beat  the  doors  of 

Life; 
But  thou  didst  sit  alone  in  the  inner  house, 
A  wakeful  portress,  and  didst   parle  with 

Death, 
*'This  is  a  charmed  dwelling  which  I  hold'*; 
147 


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So  Death  gave  back,  and  would  no  further 

come. 
Yet  is  my  Hfe  nor  in  the  present  time, 
Nor  in  the  present  place.     To  me  alone, 
Push'd  from  his  chair  of  regal  heritage, 
The  Present  is  the  vassal  of  the  Past: 
So  that,  in  that  I  have  lived,  do  I  live, 
And  cannot  die,  and  am,  in  having  been, 
A  portion  of  the  pleasant  yesterday. 
Thrust  forward  on  to-day  and  out  of  place; 
A  body  journeying  onward,  sick  with  toil, 
The   lithe   limbs   bow'd   as   with    a   heavy 

weight 
And  all  the  senses  weaken 'd  in  all,   save 

that 
Which,    long   ago,    they   had   glean'd    and 

gamer 'd  up 
Into  the  granaries  of  memory — 
The   clear  brow,   bulwark  of  the  precious 

brain. 
Now  seam'd  and  chink 'd  with  years — and 

all  the  while 
The  light  soul  twines  and  mingles  with  the 

growths 

148 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Of  vigorous  early  days,  attracted,  won. 
Married,  made  one  with,  molten  into  all 
The  beautiful  in  Past  of  act  or  place. 
Even  as  the  all-enduring  camel,  driven 
Far   from   the    diamond    fountain   by   the 

palms 
Toils    onward    thro'    the    middle    moonlit 

nights, 
Shadow'd  and  crimson'd  with  the  drifting 

dust. 
Or  when  the  white  heats  of  the  blinding 

noons 
Beat  from  the  concave  sand;  yet  in  him 

keeps 
A  draught  of  that  sweet  fountain  that  he 

loves. 
To  stay  his  feet  from  falling,  and  his  spirit 
From  bitterness  of  death. 

Ye  ask  me,  friends. 
When  I  began  to  love.     How  should  I  tell 

ye? 
Or  from  the  after-fulness  of  my  heart, 
Flow  back  again  unto  my  slender  spring 
And  first  of  love,  tho'  every  turn  and  depth 
149 


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Between  is  clearer  in  my  life  than  all 
Its  present  flow.     Ye  know  not  what  ye  ask. 
How  should  the  broad  and  open  flower  tell 
What  sort  of  bud  it  was,  when  press'd  to- 
gether 
In   its   green    sheath,    close-lapt   in   silken 

folds, 
It  seem'd  to  keep  its  sweetness  to  itself, 
Yet  was   not   the   less    sweet    for    that  it 

seem'd? 
For  young  Life  knows  not  when  young  Life 

was  born. 
But  takes  it  all  for  granted:  neither  Love, 
Warm  in  the  heart,  his  cradle,  can  remember 
Love  in  the  womb,  but  resteth  satisfied, 
Looking  on  her  that  brought  him  to  the 

light: 
Or  as  men  know  not  when  they  fall  asleep 
Into  delicious  dreams,  our  other  life. 
So  know  I  not  when  I  began  to  love. 
This   is  my   sum   of  knowledge — that   my 

love 
Grew   with    myself — say    rather,    was   my 

growth, 

ISO 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

My  inward  sap,  the  hold  I  have  on  earth, 
My  outward  circling  air  wherein  I  breathe, 
Which  yet  upholds  my  life,  and  evermore 
Was  to  me  daily  life  and  daily  death: 
For  how  should  I  have  lived  and  not  have 

loved? 
Can  ye  take  off  the   sweetness  from  the 

flower. 
The  color  and  the  sweetness  from  the  rose, 
And  place  them  by  themselves ;  or  set  apart 
Their  motions   and   their  brightness   from 

the  stars, 
And  then  point  out  the  flower  or  the  star? 
Or  build  a  wall  betwixt  my  life  and  love, 
And  tell  me  where  I  am?     'Tis  even  thus: 
In  that  I  live  I  love;  because  I  love 
I  live:  whatever  is  fountain  to  the  one 
Is  fountain  to  the  other;  and  whene'er 
Our  God  unknits  the  riddle  of  the  one. 
There  is  no  shade  or  fold  of  mystery 
Swathing  the  other. 

Many,  many  years, 
(For  they  seem  many  and  my  most  of  life, 
And  well  I  could  have  linger'd  in  that  porch, 
151 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

So  unproportion'd  to  the  dwelling-place), 
In  the  Maydews  of  childhood,  opposite 
The  flush  and  dawn  of  youth,  we  lived  to- 
gether, 
Apart,  alone  together  on  those  hills. 
Before  he  saw  my  day  my  father  died, 
And  he  was  happy  that  he  saw  it  not: 
But  I  and  the  first  daisy  on  his  grave 
From  the  same  clay  came  into  light  at  once. 
As  Love  and  I  do  number  equal  years 
So  she,  my  love,  is  of  an  age  with  me. 
How  like  each  other  was  the  birth  of  each! 
On  the  same  morning,  almost  the  same  hour, 
Under  the  self-same  aspect  of  the  stars 
(Oh  falsehood  of  all  starcraft !)  we  were  born. 
How  like  each  other  was  the  birth  of  each! 
The  sister  of  my  mother — she  that  bore 
Camilla  close  beneath  her  beating  heart, 
Which  to  the  imprison 'd  spirit  of  the  child, 
With  its  true-touched  pulses  in  the  flow 
And  hourly  visitation  of  the  blood, 
Sent  notes  of  preparation  manifold, 
And  mellow'd  echoes  of  the  outer  world — 
My  mother's  sister,  mother  of  my  love, 
152 


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Who  had  a  twofold  claim  upon  my  heart, 
One  twofold  mightier  than  the  other  was, 
In  giving  so  much  beauty  to  the  world, 
And  so  much  wealth  as  God  had  charged 

her  with 
Loathing  to  put  it  from  herself  for  ever, 
Left  her  own  Hfe  with  it;  and  dying  thus, 
Crown'd  with  her  highest  act  the  placid  face 
And  breathless  body  of  her  good  deeds  past. 

So  we  were  born,  so  orphan'd.     She  was 

motherless, 
And  I  without  a  father.     So  fromi  each 
Of  those  two  pillars  which  from  earth  up- 
hold 
Our  childhood,  one  had  fall'n  away,  and  all 
The  careful  burthen  of  our  tender  years 
Trembled  upon  the  other.     He  that  gave 
Her  life,  to  me  delightedly  fulfill'd 
All  loving-kindnesses,  all  offices 
Of  watchful  care  and  trembling  tenderness. 
He  waked  for  both:  he  pray'd  for  both: 

he  slept 
Dreaming  of  both :  nor  was  his  love  the  less 
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Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 

Because  it  was  divided,  and  shot  forth 
Boughs  on  each  side,  laden  with  wholesome 

shade, 
Wherein  we  rested  sleeping  or  awake, 
And  sang  aloud  the  matin-song  of  life. 

She  was  my  foster-sister:  on  one  arm 
The  flaxen  ringlets  of  our  infancies 
Wander'd,  the  while  we  rested :  one  soft  lap 
Pillow 'd  us  both:  one  common  light  of  eyes 
Was  on  us  as  we  lay:  our  baby  Hps, 
Kissing  one  bosom,  ever  drew  from  thence 
The  stream  of  life,  one  stream,  one  life,  one 

blood. 
One  sustenance,  which,  still  as  thought  grew 

large. 
Still  larger  moulding  all  the  house  of  thought. 
Perchance  assimilated  all  our  tastes 
And  future  fancies.     'Tis  a  beautiful 
And  pleasant  meditation,  that  whate'er 
Our  general  mother  meant  for  me  alone, 
Our  mutual  mother  dealt  to  both  of  us: 
So  what  was  earliest  mine  in  earliest  life, 
I  shared  with  her  in  whom  myself  remains. 
154 


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As  was  our  childhood,  so  our  infancy, 

They  tell  me,  was  a  very  miracle 

Of  fellow-feeling  and  communion. 

They  tell  me  that  we  would  not  be  alone, — 

We  cried  when  we  were  parted;  when  I 

wept, 
Her  smile  lit  up  the  rainbow  on  my  tears, 
Stay'd  on  the  cloud  of  sorrow;  that  we  loved 
The  sound  of  one-another's  voices  more 
Than  the  grey  cuckoo  loves  his  name,  and 

learn 'd 
To  lisp  in  tune  together:  that  we  slept 
In  the  same  cradle  always,  face  to  face. 
Heart  beating  time  to  heart,  lip  pressing 

lip, 
Folding  each  other,  breathing  on  each  other. 
Dreaming  together,  (dreaming  of  each  other 
They  should  have  added),  till  the  morning 

light 
Sloped  thro'  the  pines,  upon  the  dewy  pane 
Falling,  unseal' d  our  eyelids,  and  we  woke 
To  gaze  upon  each  other.  If  this  be  true. 
At  thought  of  which  my  whole  soul  lan- 
guishes 

155 


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And  faints,  and  hath  no  pulse,  no  breath — 

as  tho' 
A  man  in  some  still  garden  should  infuse 
Rich  atar  in  the  bosom  of  the  rose, 
Till,  drunk  with  its  own  wine,  and  overfull 
Of  sweetness,  and  in  smelling  of  itself, 
It  fall  on  its  own  thorns — if  this  be  true — 
And  that  way  my  wish  leaneth  evermore 
Still  to  believe  it — 'tis  so  sweet  a  thought, 
Why  in  the  utter  stillness  of  the  soul 
Doth  question'd  memory  answer  not,  nor 

tell. 
Of  this  our  earliest,  our  closest-drawn, 
Most  loveliest,  most  delicious  union? 

Oh,  happy,  happy  outset  of  my  days! 
Green  springtide,  April  promise,  glad  new 

year 
Of  Being,  which  with  earliest  violets, 
And  lavish  carol  of  clear-throated  larks, 
Fiird  all  the  march  of  life — I  will  not  speak 

of  thee  : 
These  have  not  seen  thee,  these  can  aever 

know  thee 

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They  cannot  understand  me.     Pass  we  then 
A  term  of  eighteen  years.     Ye  would  but 

laugh, 
If  I  should  tell  ye  how  I  hoard  in  thought 
Those  rhymes,  "The  Lion  and  the  Unicorn," 
"The  Four-and-Twenty  Blackbirds,"  "Ban- 
bury Cross," 
"The  Gander"  and  "The  Man  of  Mitylene," 
And  all  the  quaint  old  scraps  of  ancient 

crones, 
Which  are  as  gems  set  in  my  memory, 
Because    she    learn 'd    them    with    me.     Or 

what  profits  it 
To  tell  ye  that  her  father  died,  just  ere 
The  daffodil  was  blown;  or  how  we  found 
The  drowned  seaman  on  the  shore?    These 

things 
Unto  the  quiet  daylight  of  your  minds 
Are  cloud  and  smoke,  but  in  the  dark  of 

mine 
Show  traced  with  flame.     Move  with  me  to 

that  hour. 
Which  was  the  hinge  on  which  the  door  of 

Hope, 

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Once    turning,    open'd    far    into   the    out- 
ward, 

And  never  closed  again. 

I  well  remember, 

It  was  a  glorious  morning,  such  a  one 

As  dawns  but  once  a  season.     Mercury 

On  such  a  morning  would  have  flung  him- 
self 

From    cloud    to    cloud,    and    swum    with 
balanced  wings 

To  some  tall  mountain.     On  that  day  the 
year 

First  felt  his  youth  and  strength,  and  from 
his  spring 

Moved    smiling   toward   his   summer.      On 
that  day, 

Love  waking  shook  his  wings,  (that  charged 
the  winds 

With   spiced   May -sweets   from   bound    to 
bound)  and  blew 

Fresh  fire  into  the  Sun,  and  from  within 

Burst  thro'  the  heated  buds,  and  sent  his 
soul 

Into  the  spn^s  of  birds,  and  touch'd  far  off 

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His   mountain-altars,   his   high   hills,    with 

flame 
Milder  and  purer.  Up  the  rocks  we  wound; 
The  great  pine  shook  with  lonely  sounds  of 

joy, 

That  came  on  the  sea-wind.     As  mountain 

brooks 
Our  bloods  ran  free :  the  sunshine  seem'd  to 

brood 
More  warmly   on   the  heart   than   on   the 

brow. 
We  often  paused,  and  looking  back,  we  saw 
The  clefts  and  openings  in  the  hills  all  fill'd 
With   the   blue   valley   and   the   glistening 

brooks. 
And  with  the  low  dark  groves — a  land  of 

Love, 
Where   Love  was  worshipp'd  upon   every 

height, 
Where  Love  was  worshipp'd  under  every 

tree — 
A  land  of  promise,  flowing  with  the  milk 
And  honey  of  delicious  memories 
Down  to  the  sea,  as  far  as  eye  could  ken, 
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From  verge  to  verge  it  was  a  holy  land. 
Still  growing  holier  as  you  near'd  the  bay, 
For  where  the  temple  stood.     When  we  had 

reach'd 
The  grassy  platform  on  some  hill,  I  stoop 'd, 
I    gather'd    the    wild    herbs,    and    for    her 

brows 
And  mine  wove  chaplets  of  the  self-same 

flower. 
Which  she  took  smiling,  and  with  my  work 

there 
Crown 'd  her  clear  forehead.     Once  or  twice 

she  told  me 
(For  I  remember  all  things),  to  let  grow 
The  flowers  that  run  poison  in  their  veins. 
She  said,  "the  evil  flourish  in  the  world": 
Then  playfully  she  gave  herself  the  lie: 
**  Nothing  in  nature  is  unbeautiful, 
So,  brother,  pluck  and  spare  not."     So  I 

wove 
Even  the  dull-blooded  poppy,  ''whose  red 

flower, 
Hued  with  the  scarlet  of  a  fierce  sunrise. 
Like  to  the  wild  youth  of  an  evil  king, 
i6o 


Tennyson's   Suppressed   Poems 

Is  without  sweetness,  but  who  crowns  him- 
self 
Above  the  secret  poisons  of  his  heart 
In  his  old  age," — a  graceful  thought  of  hers 
Graven  on  my  fancy !     As  I  said,  with  these 
She  crown 'd  her  forehead.     O  how  like  a 

nymph, 
A  stately  mountain-nymph,  she  look'd!  how 

native 
Unto    the    hills    she    trod    on!    What    an 

angel ! 
How  clothed  with  beams!     My  eyes,  fix*d 

upon  hers, 
Almost  forgot  ever  to  move  again. 
My  spirit  leap'd  as  with  those  thrills  of  bliss 
That  shoot  across  the  soul  in  prayer,  and 

show  us 
That  we  are  surely  heard.     Methought  a 

light 
Burst  from  the  garland  I  had  woven,  and 

stood 
A  solid  glory  on  her  bright  black  hair: 
A  light,  methought,  broke  from  her  dark, 

dark  eyes 

IX  i6i 


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And  shot  itself  into  the  singing  winds; 

A  light,  methought,  flash'd  even  from  her 

white  robe, 
As  from  a  glass  in  the  sun,  and  fell  about 
My  footsteps  on  the  mountains. 

About  sunset 
We  came  unto  the  hill  of  woe,  so  call'd 
Because  the  legend  ran  that,  long  time  since, 
One  rainy  night,   when   every  wind  blew 

loud, 
A  woful  man  had  thrust  his  wife  and  child 
With  shouts  from  off  the  bridge,  and  follow- 
ing, plunged 
Into  the  dizzy  chasm  below.     Below, 
Sheer  thro'  the  black-wall'd  cliff  the  rapid 

brook 
Shot  down  his  inner  thunders,  built  above 
With  matted  bramble  and  the  shining  gloss 
Of   ivy  -  leaves,   whose  low  -  hung  tresses, 

dipp'd 
In  the  fierce  stream,  bore  downward  with 

the  wave. 
The  path  was  steep  and  loosely  strown  with 

crags. 

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We  mounted  slowly:  yet  to  both  of  us 
It  was  delight,  not  hindrance:  unto  both 
Delight  from  hardship  to  be  overcome, 
And  scorn  of  perilous  seeming;  unto  me 
Intense  delight  and  rapture  that  I  breathed. 
As  with  a  sense  of  nigher  Deity, 
With    her    to    whom    all    outward    fairest 

things 
Were  by  the  busy  mind  referr'd,  compared, 
As  bearing  no  essential  fruits  of  excellence. 
Save  as  they  were  the  types  and  shadow- 

ings 
Of  hers — and  then  that  I  became  to  her 
A  tutelary  angel  as  she  rose, 
And  with  a  fearful  self -impelling  joy 
Saw  round  her  feet  the  country  far  away, 
Beyond  the  nearest  mountain's  bosky  brows, 
Burst  into  open  prospect — heath  and  hill. 
And  hollow  lined  and  wooded  to  the  lips — 
And  steep-down  walls  of  battlemented  rock 
Gilded  with  broom  or  shiver'd  into  peaks — 
And  glory  of  broad  waters  interfused. 
Whence  rose  as  it  were  breath  and  steam 

of  gold; 

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And  over  all  the  great  wood  rioting 
And  climbing,  starr'd  at  slender  intervals 
With   blossom-tufts   of  purest   white;   and 

last, 
Framing  the  mighty  landskip  to  the  west, 
A  purple  range  of  mountain  cones,  between 
Whose  interspaces  gush'd,  in  blinding  bursts. 
The  incorporate  light  of  sun  and  sea. 

At  length. 
Upon  the  tremulous  bridge,  that  from  be- 
neath 
Seem'd  with  a  cobweb  filament  to  link 
The  earthquake-shatter 'd  chasm,  hung  with 

shrubs, 
We  paused  with  tears  of  rapture.     All  the 

West, 
And  even  unto  the  middle  South  was  ribb'd 
And  barr'd  with  bloom  on  bloom.     The  sun 

beneath 
Held  for  a  space   'twixt  cloud  and  wave, 

shower'd  down 
Rays  of  a  mighty  circle,  weaving  over 
That  various  wilderness  a  tissue  of  light 
Unparallel'd.     On  the  other  side  the  moon, 
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Half -melted  into  thin  blue  air,  stood  still, 
And  pale  and  fibrous  as  a  wither'd  leaf, 
Nor  yet  endured  in  presence  of  His  eyes 
To  indue  his  lustre;  most  unloverlike; 
Since  in  his  absence  full  of  light  and  joy. 
And    giving    light    to    others.     But    this 

chief  est, 
Next  to  her  presence  whom  I  loved  so  well. 
Spoke  loudly,  even  into  my  inmost  heart. 
As  to  my  outward  hearing:  the  loud  stream, 
Forth-issuing  from  his  portals  in  the  crag, 
(A  visible  link  unto  the  home  of  my  heart,) 
Ran  amber  toward  the  West,  and  nigh  the 

sea. 
Parting  my  own  loved  mountains,  was  re- 
ceived. 
Shorn  of  its  strength,  into  the  sympathy 
Of  that  small  bay,  which  into  open  main 
Glow'd  intermingHng  close  beneath  the  sun. 
Spirit  of  Love!  that  little  hour  was  bound. 
Shut  in  from  Time,  and  dedicate  to  thee; 
Thy  fires  from  heaven  had  touch'd  it,  and 

the  earth 
They  fell  on  became  hallow'd  evermore. 
i6s 


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We  turn'd:  our  eyes  met:  hers  were  bright, 

and  mine 
Were  dim  with  floating  tears,  that  shot  the 

sunset 
In  Hghtnings  round  me;  and  my  name  was 

borne 
Upon  her  breath.     Henceforth  my  name  has 

been 
A  hallow'd  memory,  Hke  the  names  of  old; 
A  center 'd,  glory-circled  memory. 
And  a  peculiar  treasure,  brooking  not 
Exchange  or  currency:  and  in  that  hour 
A  hope  flow'd  round  me,  like  a  golden  mist 
Charm'd  amid  eddies  of  melodious  airs, 
A    moment,    ere    the    onward    whirlwind 

shatter  it, 
Waver'd  and  floated — which  was  less  than 

Hope, 
Because  it  lack'd  the  power  of  perfect  Hope; 
But  which  was  more  and  higher  than  all 

Hope, 
Because  all  other  Hope  hath  lower  aim; 
Even  that  this  name  to  which  her  seraph 

lips 

i66 


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Did  lend  such  gentle  utterance,  this  one 

name 
In  some  obscure  hereafter,  might  in  wreathe 
(How  lovelier,  nobler  then!)   her  life,  her 

love. 
With  my  life,  love,  soul,  spirit  and  heart  and 

strength. 

**  Brother,"    she   said,    **let   this   be   call'd 

henceforth 
The  Hill  of  Hope";  and  I  replied,  *'0  sister, 
My   will    is    one   with   thine ;    the   Hill   of 

Hope." 
Nevertheless,  we  did  not  change  the  name. 

Love  lieth  deep;    Love   dwells  not   in  lip- 
depths  : 
Love  wraps  his  wings  on  either  side  the 

heart, 
Constraining  it  with  kisses  close  and  warm. 
Absorbing  all  the  incense  of  sweet  thoughts 
So  that  they  pass  not  to  the  shrine  of  sound. 
Else  had  the  life  of  that  delighted  hour 
Drunk  in  the  largeness  of  the  utterance 
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Of  Love;  but  how  should  earthly  measure 

mete 
The     Heavenly-unmeasured    or    unlimited 

Love, 
Which  scarce  can  tune  his  high  majestic 

sense 
Unto    the    thunder-song    that    wheels    the 

spheres ; 
Scarce  living  in  the  ^olian  harmony, 
And  flowing  odor  of  the  spacious  air; 
Scarce  housed  in  the  circle  of  this  earth: 
Be  cabin'd  up  in  words  and  syllables, 
Which  waste  with  the  breath  that  made 

'em?     Sooner  earth 
Might  go  round  Heaven,  and  the  straight 

girth  of  Time 
Inswathe  the  fullness  of  Eternity, 
Than  language  grasp  the  infinite  of  Love. 

O  day,  which  did  enwomb  that  happy  hour. 
Thou  art  blessed  in  the  years,  divinest  day! 
O  Genius  of  that  hour  which  dost  uphold 
Thy  coronal  of  glory  like  a  God, 
Amid  thy  melancholy  mates  far-seen, 
1 68 


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Who  walk  before  thee,  and  whose  eyes  are 

dim 
With    gazing   on   the   Hght    and   depth    of 

thine, 
Thy  name  is  ever  worshipp'd  among  hours! 
Had  I  died  then,  I  had  not  seem'd  to  die, 
For  bhss  stood  round  me  hke  the  Hghts  of 

Heaven, 
That    cannot    fade,    they    are    so    burning 

bright. 
Had   I   died  then,  I   had   not   known   the 

death ; 
Planting  my   feet   against   this   mound   of 

time 
I  had  thrown  me  on  the  vast,  and  from  this 

impulse 
Continuing  and  gathering  ever,  ever, 
Agglomerated  swiftness,  I  had  lived 
That  intense  moment  thro'  eternity. 
Oh,  had  the  Power  from  whose  right  hand 

the  light 
Of  Life  issueth,  and  from  whose  left  hand 

fioweth 
The  shadow  of  Death,  perennial  effluences, 
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Whereof  to  all  that  draw  the  wholesome 

air, 
Somewhile  the  one  must  overflow  the  other ; 
Then  had  he  stemm'd  my  day  with  night 

and  driven 
My    current    to    the    fountain    whence    it 

sprang,— 
Even  his  own  abiding  excellence, — 
On  me,  methinks,  that  shock  of  gloom  had 

fall'n 
Unfelt,  and  like  the  sun  I  gazed  upon, 
Which,  lapt  it  seeming  dissolution, 
And    dipping    his    head    low   beneath    the 

verge. 
Yet    bearing    round    about    him   his    own 

day. 
In  confidence  of  unabated  strength; 
Steppeth  from  Heaven  to  Heaven,  from  light 

to  light 
And  holdeth  his  undimmed  forehead  far 
Into  a  clearer  zenith,  pure  of  cloud; 
So  bearing  ,pn  thro'  Being  limitless 
The  triumph  of  this  foretaste,  I  had  merged 
Glory  in  glory,  without  sense  of  change. 
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We    trod    the    shadow    of    the    downward 

hill; 
We   pass'd   from   light    to    dark.     On   the 

other  side 
Is  scooped  a  cavern  and  a  mountain -hall, 
Which  none  have  fathom'd.     If  you  go  far 

in, 
(The  country  people  rumor,)  you  may  hear 
The  moaning  of  the  woman  and  the  child, 
Shut  in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  rock. 
I  too  have  heard  a  sound — perchance  of 

streams 
Running  far-on  within  its  inmost  halls. 
The  home    of    darkness;    but   the    cavern- 
mouth. 
Half  overtraded  with  a  wanton  weed. 
Gives    birth    to    a    brawling    stream,    that 

stepping  lightly 
Adown  a  natural  stair  of  tangled  roots, 
Is  presently  received  in  a  sweet  grave 
Of  eglantines,  a  place  of  burial 
Far  lovelier  than  its  cradle;  for  unseen. 
But  taken  with  the  sweetness  of  the  place. 
It  giveth  out  a  constant  melody  — 
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That    drowns    the    nearer    echoes.     Lower 

down 
Spreads   out   a   little   lake,   that,    flooding, 

—  makes 
-Cushions  of  yellow  sand ;  and  from  the  woods 
That  belt  it.  rise  three  dark,  tall  cypresses; 
Three  cypresses,  symbols  of  mortal  woe, 
That  men  plant  over  graves. 

Hither  we  came^ 
And  sitting  down  upon  the  golden  moss 
Held    converse    sweet    and    low — low    con- 
verse sweet. 
In  which  our  voices  bore  least  part.     The 

wind 
Told  a  love-tale  beside  us,  how  he  woo'd 
The  waters,  and  the  crisped  waters  lisp'd"" 
The  kisses  of  the  wind,  that,  sick  with  love, 
Fainted  at  intervals,  and  grew  again 
To  utterance  of  passion.     Ye  cannot  shape 
Fancy  so  fair  as  is  this  memory. 
Methought  all  excellence  that  ever  was 
Had   drawn   herself  from   many   thousand 

years. 
And  all  the  separate  Edens  of  this  earth, 
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To  centre  in  this  place  and  time.    I  listened 
And  her  words  stole  with  most  prevailing 

sweetness 
Into  my  heart,  as  thronged  fancies  come, 
All  unawares,  into  the  poet's  brain; 
Or  as  the  dew-drops  on  the  petal  hung, 
When  summer  winds  break  their  soft  sleep 

with  sighs, 
Creep  down  into  the  bottom  of  the  flower. 
Her    words    were    like    a    coronal    of    wild 

blooms 
Strung  in  the  very  negligence  of  art, 
Or  in  the  art  of  Nature,  where  each  rose 
Doth  faint  upon  the  bosom  of  the  other. 
Flooding  its  angry  cheek  with  odorous  tears : 
So  each  with  each  inwoven  lived  with  each. 
And  were  in  union  more  than  double-sweet. 
What  marvel  my  Camilla  told  me  all? 
It  was  so  happy  an  hour,  so  sweet  a  place. 
And  I  was  as  the  brother  of  her  blood. 
And  by  that  name  was  wont  to  live  in  her 

speech. 
Dear  name!  which  had  too  much  of  near- 
ness in  it, 

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And  heralded  the  distance  of  this  time. 
At  first  her  voice  was  very  sweet  and  low, 
As  tho*  she  were  afeard  of  utterance; 
But  in  the  onward  current  of  her  speech, 
(As  echoes  of  the  hollow-banked  brooks 
Are  fashion 'd  by  the  channel  which  they 

keep,) 
Her   words   did   of   their   meaning  borrow 

sound, 
Her  cheek  did  catch  the  color  of  her  words. 
I   heard    and    trembled,   yet    I    could  but 

hear; 
My  heart  paused — my  raised  eyelids  would 

not  fall, 
But  still  I  kept  my  eyes  upon  the  sky. 
I  seem'd  the  only  part  of  Time  stood  still, 
And  saw  the  motion  of  all  other  things; 
While  her  words,  syllable  by  syllable. 
Like  water,  drop  by  drop,  upon  my  ear 
Fell:  and  I  wish'd,  yet  wish'd  her  not  to 

speak. 
But  she  spake  on,  for  I  did  name  no  wish. 
What  marvel  my  Camilla  told  me  all 
Her  maiden  dignities  of  Hope  and  Love, 
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"Perchance,"  she  said,  "return'd."     Even 

then  the  stars 
Did  tremble  in  their  stations  as  I  gazed; 
But  she  spake  on,  for  I  did  name  no  wish. 
No  wish — no  hope.     Hope  was  not  wholly 

dead. 
But    breathing   hard    at    the    approach    of 

Death, 
Updrawn  in  expectation  of  her  charge — 
Camilla,  my  Camilla,  who  was  mine 
No  longer  in  the  dearest  use  of  mine —  — 
The  written  secrets  of  her  inmost  soul 
Lay  like  an  open  scroll  before  my  view, 
And  my  eyes  read,  they  read  aright,  her 

heart 
Was  Lionel's:  it  seem'd  as  tho'  a  link 
Of  some  light  chain  within  my  inmost  frame 
Was  riven  in  twain:  that  life  I  heeded  not 
Flow'd  from  me,  and  the  darkness  of  the 

grave, 
The  darkness  of  the  grave  and  utter  night, 
Did  swallow  up  my  vision:  at  her  feet, 
Even  the  feet  of  her  I  loved,  I  fell, 
Smit  with  exceeding  sorrow  unto  Death. 

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Then  had  the  Earth  beneath  me  yawning 

given 
Sign  of  convulsion,  and  thro*  horrid  rifts 
Sent  up  the  moaning  of  unhappy  Spirits 
Imprison 'd  in  her  centre,  with  the  heat 
Of  their  infolding  element;  had  the  Angels, 
The    watchers    at    Heaven's    gate,    push'd 

them  apart, 
And  from  the  golden  threshold  had  down- 

roll'd 
Their  heaviest  thunder — I  had  lain  as  still, 
And  blind  and  motionless,  as  then  I  lay! 
White  as  quench 'd  ashes,  cold  as  were  the 

hopes 
Of  my  lorn  love !    What  happy  air  shall  woo 
The  wither 'd  leaf  fall'n  in  the  woods,   or 

blasted 
Upon   the   bough?   a   Ughtning-stroke  had 

come 
Even  from  that  Heaven  in  whose  light  I 

bloom 'd 
And  taken  away  the  greenness  of  my  life, 
The  blossom  and  the  fragrance.     Who  was 

cursed 

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But  I?  who  miserable  but  I?  even  Misery- 
Forgot  herself  in  that  extreme  distress, 
And  with  the  overdoing  of  her  part 
Did  fall  away  into  oblivion. 
The  night  in  pity  took  away  my  day, 
Because  my  grief  as  yet  was  newly  bom; 
Of    too    weak    eyes    to    look    upon    the 

light; 
And  with  the  hasty  notice  of  the  ear, 
Frail   Life  was    startled   from   the   tender 

love 
Of  him  she  brooded  over.     Would  I  had 

lain     " 
Until  the  pleached  ivy -tress  had  wound 
Round  my  worn  limbs,  and  the  wild  briar 

had  driven 
Its    knotted    thorns    thro'    my    unpaining 

brows. 
Leaning  its  roses  on  my  faded  eyes. 
The  wind  had  blown  above  me,   and  the 

rain 
Had  fall'n  upon  me,  and  the  gilded  snake 
Had  nestled  in  this  bosom  throne  of  Love, 
But  I  had  been  at  rest  for  evermore. 

la  177 


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Long  time  entrancement  held  me:  all  too 

soon, 
Life  (like  a  wanton  too-officious  friend, 
Who  will  not  hear  denial,  vain  and  rude 
With  proffer  of  unwish'd  for  services) 
Entering  all  the  avenues  of  sense, 
Pass'd  thro'  into  his  citadel,  the  brain, 
With  hated  warmth  of  apprehensiveness  : 
And   first   the    chillness   of   the   mountain 

stream 
Smote  on  my  brow,  and  then  I  seem'd  to 

hear 
Its  murmur,  as  the  drowning  seaman  hears, 
Who  with  his  head  below  the  surface  dropt, 
Listens  the  dreadful  murmur  indistinct 
Of  the  confused  seas,  and  knoweth  not 
Beyond  the  sound  he  lists:  and  then  came  in 
O'erhead    the    white    Hght    of    the    weary 

moon. 
Diffused  and  molten  into  flaky  cloud. 
Was  my  sight  drunk,  that  it  did  shape  to 

me 
Him  who  should  own  that  name?  or  had 

my  fancy 

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So  lethargised  discernment  in  the  sense, 
That  she  did  act  the  step-dame  to  mine  eyes, 
Warping  their  nature,  till  they  minister'd 
Unto    her   swift    conceits?      'Twere  better 

thus, 
If  so  be  that  the  memory  of  that  sound. 
With  mighty  evocation,  had  updrawn 
The  fashion  and  the  phantasm  of  the  form 
It  should  attach  to.     There  was  no  such 

thing — 
It  was  the  man  she  loved,  even  Lionel, 
The  lover  Lionel,  the  happy  Lionel, 
The  low- voiced,  tender-spirited  Lionel, 
All  joy;  who  drew  the  happy  atmosphere 
Of  my  unhappy  sighs,  fed  with  my  tears. 
To  him  the  honey-dews  of  orient  hope. 
Oh !  rather  had  some  loathly  ghastful  brow, 
Half -burst  en  from  the  shroud,  in  cerecloth 

bound. 
The  dead  skin  withering  on  the  fretted  bone, 
The  very  Spirit  of  Paleness  made  still  paler 
By  the  shuddering  moonlight,  fix'd  his  eyes 

on  mine 
Horrible  with  the  anger  and  the  heat 
179 


Tennyson's   Suppressed   Poems 

Of  the  remorseful  soul  alive  within, 
And  damn'd  unto  his  loathed  tenement, 
Methinks  I  could  have  sooner  met  that  gaze. 
Oh,  how  her  choice  did  leap  forth  from  his 

eyes! 
Oh,  how  her  love  did  clothe  itself  in  smiles 
About  his  lips!     This  was  the  very  arch- 
mock 
And  insolence  of  uncontrolled  Fate, 
When  the  effect  weigh 'd  seas  upon  my  head 
To  twit  me  with  the  cause. 

Why  how  was  this? 
Could  he  not  walk  what  paths  he  chose,  nor 

breathe 
What  airs  he  pleased?     Was  not  the  wide 

earth  free. 
With  all  her  interchange  of  hill  and  plain, 
To  him  as  well  as  me?     I  know  not,  'faith: 
But  Misery,  like  a  fretful  wayward  child, 
Refused  to  look  his  author  in  the  face. 
Must  he  come  my  way  too?  was  not  the 

South, 
The   East,   the  West   all  open,   if  he  had 
fairn 

1 80 


Tennyson's   Suppressed    Poems 

In  love  in  twilight?     Why  should  he  come 

my  way, 
Robed  in  those  robes  of  light  I  must  not 

wear, 
With  that  great  crown  of  beams  about  his 

brows  ? 
Come  like  an  Angel  to  a  damned  soul, 
To  tell  him  of  the  bliss  he  had  with  God; 
Come  like  a  careless  and  a  greedy  heir, 
That  scarce  can  wait  the  reading  of  the  will 
Before  he  takes  possession?     Was  mine  a 

mood 
To  be  invaded  rudely,  and  not  rather 
A  sacred,  secret,  unapproached  woe 
Unspeakable.     I  was  shut  up  with  grief; 
She  took  the  body  of  my  past  delight, 
Narded,   and   swathed,    and  balm'd  it   for 

herself. 
And  laid  it  in  a  new-hewn  sepulchre 
-Where   man    had    never   lain.     I    was    led 

mute 
Into  her  temple  like  a  sacrifice; 
I  was  the  High-priest  in  her  holiest  place, 
Not  to  be  loudly  broken  in  upon. 
i8i 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Oh!   friend,   thoughts   deep   and  heavy   as 

these  well-nigh 
O'erbore  the  limits  of  my  brain;  but  he 
Bent  o'er  me,   and  my  neck  his  arm  up- 

stay'd 
From  earth.     I  thought  it  was  an  adder's 

fold, 
And  once  I  strove  to  disengage  myself. 
But  fail'd  I  was  so  feeble.     She  was  there 

too: 
She   bent    above   me  too :   her  cheek  was 

pale, 
Oh !  very  fair  and  pale :  rare  pity  had  stolen 
The  living  bloom  away,  as  tho'  a  red  rose 
Should  change  into  a  white  one  suddenly. 
Her  eyes,  I  saw,  were  full  of  tears  in  the 

morn. 
And  some  few  drops  of  that  distressful  rain 
Being  wafted  on  the  wind,   drove  in  my 

sight, 
And  being  there  they  did  break  forth  afresh 
In  a  new  birth,  immingled  with  my  own, 
And   still    bewept    my   grief,    keeping   un- 
changed 

182 


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The   purport   of  their   coinage.     Her   long 

ringlets, 
Drooping    and    beaten    with    the    plaining 

wind, 
- — Did  brush  my  forehead  in  their  to-and-fro: 
For  in  the  sudden  anguish  of  her  heart, 
Loosed  from  their  simple  thrall  they  had 

flowed  abroad, 
And  onward  floating  in  a  full,  dark  wave, 
Parted  on  either  side  her  argent  neck. 
Mantling  her  form  half-way.     She,  when  I 

woke, 
After  my  refluent  health  made  tender  quest 
Unanswered,  for  I  spake  not:  for  the  sound 
Of  that  dear  voice  so  musically  low. 
And  now  first  heard  with  any  sense  of  pain. 
As  it  had  taken  life  away  before. 
Choked  all  the  syllables  that  in  my  throat 
Strove    to    uprise,    laden    with    mournful 

thanks. 
From  my  full  heart:  and  ever  since  that 

hour, 
My  voice  hath  somewhat  falter'd — and  what 

wonder 

1S3 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

That  when  hope  died,  part  of  her  eloquence 
Died  with  her?  He,  the  blissful  lover,  too, 
From  his  great  hoard  of  happiness  distill'd 
Some  drops  of  solace;  like  a  vain  rich  man, 
That,  having  always  prosper 'd  in  the  world, 
Folding  his  hands,  deals  comfortable  words 
To  hearts  wounded  for  ever;  yet,  in  truth, 
Fair  speech  was  his  and  delicate  of  phrase, 
Falling  in  whispers  on  the  sense,  address 'd 
More  to  the  inward  than  the  outward  ear, 
As  rain  of  the  midsummer  midnight  soft 
Scarce-heard,   recalling   fragrance   and   the 

green 
Of  the  dead  spring — such  as  in  other  minds 
Had  film'd  the  margents  of  the  recent  wound. 
And  why  was  I  to  darken  their  pure  love. 
If,  as  I  knew,  they  two  did  love  each  other, 
Because  my  own  was  darken 'd  ?  Why  was  I 
To  stand  within  the  level  of  their  hopes, 
Because  my  hope  was  widow'd,  like  the  cur 
In  the  child's  adage?  Did  I  love  Camilla? 
Ye  know  that  I  did  love  her :  to  this  present 
My  full-orb 'd  love  hath  waned  not,     Di4 

I  love  her. 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

And  could  I  look  upon  her  tearful  eyes? 
Tears  wept  for  me;  for  me — weep  at  my 

grief  ? 
What  had  she  done  to  weep  ?  why  should  she 

weep? 
Oh,  innocent  of  spirit — let  my  heart 
Break   rather — whom  the  gentlest   airs  of 

Heaven 
Should  kiss  with  an  unwonted  gentleness. 
Her   love    did   murder   mine;   what   then? 

She  deem'd 
I    wore   a   brother's   mind;   she   call'd   me 

brother : 
She  told  me  all  her  love :  she  shall  not  weep. 

The  brightness  of  a  burning  thought  awhile 
.-^B-attailing  with  the  glooms  of  my  dark  will, 
Moonlike  emerged,  lit  up  unto  itself, 
Upon  the  depth  of  an  unfathom'd  woe, 
Reflex  of  action.     Starting  up  at  once. 
As  men  do  from  a  vague  and  horrid  dream, 
And  throwing  by  all  consciousness  of  self. 
In  eager  haste  I  shook  him  by  the  hand; 
Then  flinging  myself  down  upon  my  knees, 

185 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Even  where  the  grass  was  warm  where  I 

had  lain, 
I  pray'd  aloud  to  God  that  he  vfould  hold 
The  hand  of  blessing  over  Lionel, 
,„And  her  whom  he  would  make  his  wedded 

wife — 
Camilla!     May  their  days  be  golden  days. 
And  their  long  life  a  dream  of  linked  love, 
From  which  may  rude  Death  never  startle 

them, 
But  grow  upon  them  like  a  glorious  vision 
Of  unconceived  and  awful  happiness. 
Solemn   but   splendid,   full    of   shapes   and 

sounds, 
Swallowing  its  precedent  in  victory. 
Let  them  so  love  that  men  and  boys  may 

say, 
Lo!  how  they  love  each  other!  till  their  love 
Shall  ripen  to  a  proverb  unto  all, 
Known  when  their  faces  are  forgot  in  the 

land. 
And  as  for  me,  Camilla,  as  for  me. 
Think  not  thy  tears  will  make  my  name 

grow  green 

i86 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

The  dew  of  tears  is  an  unwholesome  dew. 
The  course  of  Hope  is  dried — the  Hfe  o'  the 

plant — 
They  will  but  sicken  the  sick  plant  more. 
Deem  then  that  I  love  thee  but  as  brothers 

do, 
So  shalt  thou  love  me  still  as  sisters  do; 
Or  if  thou  dream' St  aught  farther,  dream 

but  how 
I   could  have  loved  thee,  had  there  been 

none  else 
To  love  as  lovers,  loved  again  by  thee. 

Or  this,  or  somewhat  like  to  this,  I  spake. 

When  I  did  see  her  weep  so  ruefully; 

For  sure  my  love  should  ne'er  induce  the 

front 
And  mask  of  Hate,  whom  woful  aliments 
Of  unavailing  tears  and  heart-deep  moans 
Feed  and  envenom,  as  the  milky  blood 
Of  hateful  herbs  a  subtle-fanged  snake. 
Shall    Love    pledge    Hatred    in    his    bitter 

draughts, 
And  batten  on  his  poisons?     Love  forbid! 

187 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Love  passeth  not  the  threshold  of  cold  Hate, 
And  Hate  is  strange  beneath  the  roof  of 

Love. 
O  Love,  if  thou  be'st  Love,  dry  up  these 

tears 
Shed  for  the  love  of  Love;  for  tho'  mine 

image, 
The  subject  of  thy  power,  be  cold  in  her, 
Yet,  like  cold  snow,  it  melteth  in  the  source 
Of  these  sad  tears,  and  feeds  their  downward 

flow. 
So    Love,    arraign 'd   to   judgment    and   to 

death. 
Received  unto  himself  a  part  of  blame, 
Being  guiltless,  as  an  innocent  prisoner. 
Who  when  the  woful  sentence  hath  been 

past. 
And   all   the    clearness    of   his   fame   hath 

gone 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  curse  of  man. 
First    falls    asleep    in    swoon.     Wherefrom 

awaked, 
And  looking  round  upon  his  tearful  friends, 
Forthwith  and  in  his  agony  conceives 
i88 


Tennyson *s    Suppressed   Poems 

A  shameful  sense  as  of  a  cleaving  crime — 
For  whence  without  some  guilt  should  such 
grief  be? 

vSo  died  that  hour,  and  fell  into  the  abysm 
Of  forms  outworn,  but  not  to  me  outworn. 
Who  never  hail'd  another  worth  the  Life 
That  made  it  sensible.     So  died  that  hour, 
Like  odor  rapt  into  the  winged  wind 
Borne  into  alien  lands  and  far  away. 
There  be  some  hearts  so  airy -fashioned, 
That  in  the   death   of   Love,   if  e'er  they 

loved. 
On  that  sharp  ridge  of  utmost  doom  ride 

highly 
Above    the   perilous    seas    of  Change    and 

Chance — 
Nay,  more,  hold  out  the  lights  of  cheer- 
fulness ; 
As  the  tall  ship,  that  many  a  dreary  year. 
Knit  to  some  dismal  sandbank  far  at  sea, 
All  through  the  livelong  hours  of  utter  dark. 
Showers  slanting  light  upon  the  dolorous 
wave. 

189 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

For   me    all   other  Hopes   did   sway   from 

that 
Which  hung  the  frailest:  falling,  they  fell 

too, 
Crush 'd  link  on  link  into  the  beaten  earth. 
And  love  did  walk  with  banish 'd  Hope  no 

more, 
It  was  ill-done  to  part  ye.  Sisters  fair; 
Love's  arms  were  wreathed  about  the  neck 

of  Hope, 
And  Hope  kiss'd  Love,  and  Love  drew  in 

her  breath 
In  that  close  kiss,  and  drank  her  whisper'd 

tales. 
They  said  that  Love  would  die  when  Hope 

was  gone, 
And  Love  mourn'd  long,  and  sorrow'd  after 

Hope ; 
At  last  she  sought  out  Memory,  and  they 

trod 
The  same  old  paths  where  Love  had  walk'd 

with  Hope, 
And  Memory  fed   the    soul   of   Love  with 

tears. 

190 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 


II 

From  that  time  forth  I  would  not  see  her 

more ; 
But  many  weary  moons  I  lived  alone — 
Alone,  and  in  the  heart  of  the  great  forest. 
Sometimes  upon  the  hills  beside  the  sea 
All    day    I    watch 'd    the    floating    isles    of 

shade, 
And    sometimes    on   the    shore,    upon   the 

sands 
Insensibly  I  drew  her  name,  until 
The  meaning  of  the  letters  shot  into 
My  brain;  anon  the  wanton  billow  wash'd 
Them  over,  till  they  faded  like  my  love. 
The  hollow  caverns  heard  me — the  black 

brooks 
Of  the  mid-forest  heard  me — the  soft  winds, 
Laden  with  thistledown  and  seeds  of  flowers, 
Paused  in  their  course  to  hear  me,  for  my 

voice 
Was  all  of  thee:  the  merry  linnet  knew  me, 
The  squirrel  knew  me,  and  the  dragon-fly 

IQI 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Shot  by  me  like  a  flash  of  purple  fire. 
The  rough  briar  tore  my  bleeding  palms; 

the  hemlock, 
Brow-high,  did  strike  my  forehead  as  I  past; 
Yet  trod  I  not  the  wild-flower  in  my  path, 
Nor  bruised  the  wild-bird's  egg. 

Was  this  the  end? 
Why  grew  we  then  together  i'  the  same  plot  ? 
Why  fed  we  the  same  fountain?  drew  the 

same  sun? 
Why  were   our  mothers'   branches  of  one 

stem? 
Why  were  we  one  in  all  things,  save  in  that 
Where  to  have  been  one  had  been  the  roof 

and  crown 
Of  all  I  hoped  and  fear'd?  if  that  same 

nearness 
Were  father  to  this  distance,  and  that  one 
'Vauntcourier  this  double?     If  Affection 
Living  slew  Love,  and  Sympathy  hew'd  out 
The  bosom-sepulchre  of  sympathy. 

Chiefly  I  sought  the  cavern  and  the  hill 
Where  last  we  roam'd  together,  for  the  sound 
192 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 

Of  the  loud  stream  was  pleasant,  and  the 

wind 
Came  wooingly  with  violet  smells.     Some- 
times 
All  day  I  sat  within  the  cavern-mouth, 
Fixing   my   eyes   on   those   three   cypress- 
cones 
Which  spired  above  the  wood;  and  with 

mad  hand 
Tearing  the  bright  leaves  of  the  ivy-screen, 
I  cast  them  in  the  noisy  brook  beneath. 
And  watch 'd  them  till  they  vanished  from 

my  sight 
Beneath  the  bower  of  wreathed  eglantines: 
And  all  the  fragments  of  the  living  rock, 
(Huge  splinters,  which  the  sap  of  earliest 

showers, 
Or  moisture  of  the  vapor,  left  in  clinging 
When  the  shrill  storm-blast  feeds  it  from 

behind. 
And  scatters  it  before,  had  shatter'd  from 
The  mountain,  till  they  fell,  and  with  the 

shock 
Half  dug  their  own  graves,)  in  mine  agony, 

13  193 


Tennyson's   Suppressed    Poems 

Did  I  make  bare  of  all  the  deep  rich  moss, 
Wherewith  the  dashing  runnel  in  the  spring 
Had  liveried  them  all  over.     In  my  brain 
The  spirit  seem'd  to  flag  from  thought  to 

thought, 
Like  moonlight  wandering  thro'  a  mist:  my 

blood 
Crept  like  the  drains  of  a  marsh  thro'  all  my 

body; 
The  motions  of  my  heart  seemed  far  within 

me, 
Unfrequent,  low,  as  tho'  it  told  its  pulses; 
And  yet  it  shook  me,  that  my  frame  did 

shudder, 
As  it  were  drawn  asunder  by  the  rack. 
But  over  the  deep  graves  of  Hope  and  Fear, 
The   wrecks    of   ruin'd   life    and   shatter'd 

thought. 
Brooded  one  master-passion  evermore, 
Like  to  a  low-hung  and  a  fiery  sky 
Above  some  great  metropolis,  earth-shock'd 
Hung  round  with  ragged-rimmed  burning 

folds, 
Embathing  all  with  wild  and  woful  hues — 
194 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Great  hills  of  ruins,  and  collapsed  masses 
Of  thunder-shaken  columns,  indistinct 
And  fused  together  in  the  tyrannous  light. 

So  gazed  I  on  the  rtiins  of  that  thought 
Which  was  the  playmate  of  my  youth — for 

which 
I  lived  and  breathed:  the  dew,  the  sun,  the 

rain, 
Unto  the  growth  of  body  and  of  mind; 
The  blood,  the  breath,  the  feeling,  and  the 

motion, 
The  slope  unto  the  current  of  my  years, 
Which    drove   them   onward — made    them 

sensible ; 
The  precious  jewel  of  my  honor 'd  life, 
Erewhile  close  couch'd  in  golden  happiness, 
Now  proved  counterfeit,  was  shaken  out. 
And,  trampled  on,  left  to  its  own  decay. 

Sometimes  I  thought  Camilla  was  no  more, 
Some  one  had  told  me  she  was  dead,  and 

ask'd  me 
If  I  woxild  see  her  burial :  then  I  seem'd 
195 


Tennyson's    Suppressed  Poems 

To  rise,  and  thro'  the  forest -shadow  borne 
With  more  than   mortal   swiftness,    I   ran 

down 
The  steepy  sea-bank,  till  I  came  upon 
The  rear  of  a  procession,  curving  round 
The  silver-sheeted  bay:  in  front  of  which 
Six  stately  virgins,  all  in  white,  upbare 
A    broad    earth-sweeping    pall    of    whitest 

lawn. 
Wreathed  round  the  bier  with  garlands:  in 

the  distance, 
From  out  the  yellow  woods,  upon  the  hill, 
Look'd  forth  the  summit  and  the  pinnacles 
Of  a  grey  steeple.     All  the  pageantry. 
Save  those  six  virgins  which  upheld  the 

bier, 
Were  stoled  from  head  to  foot  in  flowing 

black ; 
One  walk'd  abreast  with  me,  and  veil'd  his 

brow. 
And  he  was  loud  in  weeping  and  in  praise 
Of  the  departed:  a  strong  sympathy 
Shook  all  my  soul :  I  flung  myself  upon  him 
In  tears  and  cries:  I  told  him  all  my  love, 
196 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

How  I  had  loved  her  from  the  first ;  whereat 
He  shrunk  and  howl'd,  and  from  his  brow 

drew  back 
His  hand  to  push  me  from  him ;  and  the  face, 
The  very  face  and  form  of  Lionel 
Flash 'd  though  my  eyes  into  my  innermost 

brain, 
And  at  his  feet  I  seem'd  to  faint  and  fall. 
To  fall  and  die  away.     I  could  not  rise 
Albeit  I  strove  to  follow.     They  pass'd  on, 
The  lordly  Phantasms !  in  their  floating  folds 
They  pass'd  and  were  no  more:  but  I  had 

fall'n 
Prone  by  the  dashing  runnel  on  the  grass. 
Alway  th'  inaudible,  invisible  thought 
Artificer  and  subject,  lord  and  slave 
Shaped  by  the  audible  and  visible. 
Moulded  the  audible  and  visible; 
All  crisped  sounds  of  wave,  and  leaf  and 

wind, 
Flatter'd  the  fancy  of  my  fading  brain; 
-- — --The  storm-pavilion 'd  element,  the  wood, 
The  mountain,  the  three  cypresses,  the  cave, 
Were  wrought  into  the  tissue  of  my  dream. 
X97 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

The  meanings  in  the  forest,  the  loud  stream, 
Awoke  me  not,  but  were  a  part  of  sleep; 
And  voices  in  the  distance,  calling  to  me. 
And  in  my  vision  bidding  me  dream  on. 
Like  sounds  within  the  twilight  realms  of 

dreams, 
Which  wander  round  the  bases  of  the  hills, 
And  murmur  in  the  low-dropt  eaves  of  sleep, 
But  faint  within  the  portals.     Oftentimes 
The  vision  had  fair  prelude,  in  the  end 
Opening  on  darkness,  stately  vestibules 
To  cares  and  shows  of  Death;  whether  the 

mind, 
With  a  revenge  even  to  itself  unknown, 
Made  strange  division  of  its  suffering 
With  her,  whom  to  have  suffering  view'd 

had  been 
Extremest    pain;    or    that    the    clear-eyed 

Spirit, 
Being  blasted  in  the  Present,  grew  at  length 
Prophetical  and  prescient  of  whate'er 
The  Future  had  in  store;  or  that  which 

most 
Enchains  belief,  the  sorrow  of  my  spirit 
198 


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Was  of  so  wide  a  compass  it  took  in 
All  I  had  loved,  and  my  dull  agony, 
Ideally  to  her  transferred,  became 
Anguish  intolerable. 

The  day  waned; 
Alone  I  sat  with  her:  about  my  brow 
Her  warm  breath  floated  in  the  utterance 
Of    silver-chorded    tones;    her    lips    were 

sunder'd 
With  smiles  of  tranquil  bliss,  which  broke  in 

light 
Like  morning  from  her  eyes — her  eloquent 

eyes, 
(As  I  have  seen  them  many  hundred  times,) 
Fill'd  all  with  clear  pure  fire,  thro'  mine 

down  rain'd 
Their   spirit  -  searching   splendors.      As    a 

vision 
Unto  a  haggard  prisoner,  iron -stay 'd 
In  damp  and  dismal  dungeons  underground 
Confined  on  points  of  faith,  when  strength 

is  shocked 
With  torment,  and  expectancy  of  worse 
Upon  the  morrow,  thro'  the  ragged  walls, 
199 


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All  unawares  before  his  half-shut  eyes, 
Comes  in  upon  him  in  the  dead  of  night, 
And,  with  th*  excess  of  sweetness  and  of 

awe. 
Makes  the  heart  tremble,  and  the  eyes  run 

over 
Upon  his  steely  gyves;  so  those  fair  eyes 
Shone  on  my  darkness  forms  which  ever 

stood 
Within  the  magic  cirque  of  memory. 
Invisible  but  deathless,  waiting  still 
The  edict  of  the  will  to  reassume 
The  semblance  of  those  rare  reaUties 
Of  which  they  were  the  mirrors.     Now  the 

light, 
Which  was  their  life,  burst  thro'  the  cloud 

of  thought 
Keen,  irrepressible. 

It  was  a  room 
Within    the    summer  -  house    of   which    I 

spake. 
Hung  round  with  paintings  of  the  sea,  and 

pne 
A  vessel  in  mid-ocean,  her  heaved  prow 
200 


Tennyson^s    Suppressed   Poems 

Clambering,  the  mast  bent,  and  the  riven 

wind 
In  her  sail  roaring.     From  the  outer  day, 
Betwixt  the  closest  ivies  came  a  broad 
And  solid  beam  of  isolated  Hght, 
Crowded  with  driving  atomies,  and  fell 
Slanting    upon    that    picture,    from    prime 

youth 
Well-known,  well -loved.     She  drew  it  long 

ago 
Forth  gazing  on  the  waste  and  open  sea, 
One  morning  when  the  upblown  billow  ran 
Shoreward  beneath  red  clouds,  and  I  had 

pour'd 
Into  the  shadowing  pencil's  naked  forms 
Color  and  life:  it  was  a  bond  and  seal 
Of  friendship,  spoken  of  with  tearful  smiles; 
A  monument  of  childhood  and  of  love. 
The  poesy  of  childhood;  my  lost  love 
Symbol'd  in  storm.     We  gazed  on  it  to- 
gether 
In  mute  and  glad  remembrance,  and  each 

heart 
Grew  closer  to  the  other,  and  the  eye 

201 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

Was  riveted  and  charm-bound,  gazing  like 
The  Indian  on  a  still-eyed  snake,  low- 
crouch 'd, 
A  beauty  which  is  death;  when  all  at  once 
That  painted  vessel,  as  with  inner  life, 
*Gan  rock  and  heave  upon  that  painted  sea; 
An  earthquake,  my  loud  heart-beats,  made 

the  ground 
Roll  under  us,  and  all  at  once,  soul,  life 
And  breath,  and  motion,  pass'd  and  flow'd 

away 
To  those  imreal  billows:  round  and  round 
A  whirlwind  caught  and  bore  us;  mighty 

gyves, 
Rapid  and  vast,    of    hissing    spray    wind- 

driven 
Far    thro'     the     dizzy     dark.     Aloud    she 

shriek 'd — 
My  heart  was  cloven  with  pain.     I  wound 

my  arms 
About  her:  we  whirl'd  giddily:  the  wind 
Sung:  but  I  clasp 'd  her  without  fear:  her 

weight 
Shrank  in  my  grasp,  and  over  my  dim  eyes 
202 


Tennyson's    Suppressed   Poems 

And  parted  lips  which  drank  her  breath, 

down-hung 
The  jaws  of  Death:  I,  screaming,  from  me 

flung 
The  empty  phantom :  all  the  sway  and  whirl 
Of  the  storm  dropt  to  windless  calm,  and  I 
Down  welter'd  thro'  the  dark  ever  and  ever. 


'        y 


THE    END 


^  14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

^      This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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